


Damage

by barbaXcarisi (barbaXbenson)



Series: Married Barisi [2]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Case Fic, Domestic Violence, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Married Barisi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2019-08-21 08:50:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16573445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbaXbenson/pseuds/barbaXcarisi
Summary: Sonny tilted his head, looking him over carefully. “Look, why don’t we hand this off to another ADA? No one will think anything of it.”Rafael’s gaze sharpened. “What does that mean?”“C’mon, Raf, you know what it means.”“That you think I can’t objectively do my job. That I can’t prosecute a case without my personal feelings getting in the way. I think you’re confusing me with yourself.” He dropped his feet to the floor, standing to pace.Sonny frowned, standing as well, just so he could turn to face him where he was now in the center of the room. He was used to Rafael deflecting; he wasn’t going to let it work this time. “Don’t do that. I’m just trying to—”“Sonny, if you say protect me, I swear to god…”AKA the sequel to Quiet Unrest and it's Rafael's turn to let a case get personal.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for awhile and I'm so happy to be sharing it with you all in celebration of getting 1000 followers over on tumblr. It means the world to me that you all read and enjoy my fic. <3
> 
> P.S. I just couldn't let go of married Barisi and I hope you couldn't either!

“I think I like this one more each time I see it,” Rafael said, leaning back, hand on his chin, admiring the painting in front of them. “Remember we found a print at that flea market last year? Now I’m regretting not getting it.” 

He wasn’t sure when or how he’d become this person, part of a couple who not only attended flea markets, but easily recounted items found there, but he chose not to spend too much time thinking on it.

“You can probably find one online if you really want it,” Sonny suggested, trying as he might to make sense of the odd shapes and random pops of color. He enjoyed the Met, he really did, but each time they visited, he understood less and less the appeal of modern art.

Rafael only hummed in response, as if a print purchased online couldn’t possibly match the character of an equally fake duplication found at a flea market in Brooklyn, before moving on to the next painting.

Sonny trailed along, watching as Rafael took in each piece of art. He might not get, or even appreciate, these works, but he did love watching Rafael appreciate them. He always supplied thoughtful comments and found emotion where Sonny only saw splatters of paint.

They’d just made their way into the final room of the wing when Sonny’s phone rang, garnering dirty looks from the other patrons in the room, including his husband. “Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling the phone from his pocket and stepping into the small walkway between the modern art and European sculpture wings.

Rafael frowned as he ducked out, knowing it must be work if he was actually taking the call. So much for their Saturday.

He knew he was right the second Sonny returned, an apologetic look already fixed across his features. “You have to go.”

Sonny nodded. “Yeah, sorry.”

“If only New York’s criminals kept business hours,” Rafael sighed. He’d known it was a bad idea to make plans on a Saturday when Sonny was on call.

“Hey, at least you got to see some of your stuff. We didn’t even make it to the weapons wing yet.”

Rafael rolled his eyes. “All of this priceless art and all you care about are some old guns.”

“Hey, there are swords, too,” he argued with a grin. “Look, why don’t you stay? Enjoy the rest of the museum. I’ll come back up and meet you for dinner if I can.”

“It’s boring alone.” It was a pout, plain and simple, but Sonny knew he’d be met with a categorical denial if he’d dare to point it out.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead.

“I know.” Rafael kissed him, quick and chaste. “Go.”

Sonny squeezed his hand, kissing him one more time. “I’ll be as quick as I can. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Be safe.”

Sonny nodded, assuring him that he would be, and disappeared into the museum. Rafael sighed again, debating whether or not he wanted to stay or go, but finally shrugged to himself before moving on into the next wing.

* * *

A cab was his fastest route across the park and he made good time, stepping onto the sidewalk less than twenty minutes after he’d received the call. He would have made better time if he hadn’t gotten turned around inside the museum. The place was a maze and no matter how many times he went, he always got lost. He would be sure to never tell Rafael, who practically knew the place like the back of his hand.

There was only one squad car parked out in front of the building—a nondescript walk up in a part of town that realtors would tout as being on the Upper West Side, but was actually Morningside Heights—and Sonny’s brow furrowed. Usually the scenes they were called to were a lot more hectic.

He was contemplating calling dispatch and double checking that he was supposed to be there when Rollins pulled the Interceptor up to the curb, parking behind the squad car.  

“Didn’t expect you here this fast,” he said when she climbed down out of the SUV. He knew Amanda loved her weekend one on one time with Jesse and had figured it would take her some time to secure a sitter.

“I dropped Jesse at Liv’s. Luckily her place was on the way,” she explained, joining him on the sidewalk. “Just another thing to add to the long list of grievances she’s going to give her therapist someday.”

“Aw, come on, Amanda. You’re a good mom.”

She only tossed him a look, one that clearly said she didn’t believe him, before nodding to the squad car and putting voice to his thoughts. “Seems pretty calm. You get any details?”

He shook his head. “Just that it was a 10-52.”

She looked at him, confused. “They called us in for that?” The irritation bled through in her voice.

Sonny just shrugged, holding open the door for her to pass through in front of him. “I’m sure there was a reason.”

With little air flow and summer trying its best to hold on even though they were well into September, the heat in the building was oppressive as they began their climb up the narrow staircase. “Why’s it always a walk up?” Rollins complained, things that normally wouldn’t bother her only added to her annoyance today.

Sonny used the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow when they finally reached the the fourth floor landing.

They were almost to 4F when the door flew open and a uniformed officer shoved a handcuffed man through it. He was fairly young, probably early thirties if Sonny had to guess, handsome by conventional standards, and about a foot taller than the officer, and quite reluctant to be pushed down the hallway, but the officer didn’t seem fazed.

“You SVU?” she asked, keeping her grip tight on the man’s elbow, glancing at Rollins and then looking more skeptically at Sonny. He suddenly felt self conscious in his dark jeans and navy, short sleeved button up. Luckily he’d tucked his badge in his back pocket, just in case, when they’d gone to the museum, so he had it clipped now to the waistband of his pants.

It was the only thing that kept him from feeling like he’d showed up naked to class.

“That’s us,” Rollins, who’d been at home and at least had time to throw on a blazer over her plain white t-shirt, answered.

“My partner’s inside with the victim,” Officer Ramirez—according to her nametag—   nodded toward the door that was still adjar.

“Victim,” the suspect, having stewed silently up until now, spat. “She’s no victim. Just ask her. I—”

“This one was giving us trouble,” she continued as the man continued to rant. All three of them paid him no attention. “So we’re going to let him chill in the back of the squad car while we wrap things up.”  

Sonny thought about offering her a hand, but she seemed to have it under control, so he just thanked her and pushed open the door to the apartment.

The place was small with one open room looking to serve as the living room and kitchen, but it was tidy and smelled of something floral. Family photos adorned the walls and a child’s drawings hung on the fridge. It had all the makings of a happy home, all except for the frightened woman and child who sat on the couch.

The woman was thin, almost frail, and she had her arm wrapped protectively around a boy who couldn’t be older than ten. She looked nothing like the woman who smiled out from the frames on the walls. The right side of her face was already darkening to a deep shade of purple and blood dried at the split in her bottom lip.

Sonny’s jaw clenched when he saw the distinctive finger marks on her throat. The husband had certainly done a number on her.

An officer who looked barely old enough to be out of high school, let alone the academy, stood in the center of the room, notebook and pen in hand. “Excuse me just a second,” he said softly to the victim when he spotted the detectives. He gave them a pointed look and nodded toward the hallway.  Rollins and Sonny followed him out.

“Officer Howard,” he said by way of introduction. “You guys SVU?”

“Detectives Rollins and Carisi,” Amanda said, gesturing first to herself and then toward Sonny. “But we don’t usually get called in on a straightforward DV.”

“I know, but it was the kid who called it in. Seems like he witnessed the whole thing,” Howard grimaced, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, flushed pink from the heat, and Sonny wondered if it was his first time dealing with abuse victims. “Figured if he’s doing that to the wife, he might be hurting the kid too. You all have more experience there, so we figured we’d play it safe.”

Sonny nodded. “Okay, so, give us the rundown.”

“Melissa and Bill Campbell, kid’s name is Luke, ten years old.” He was still holding his notebook, but didn’t need it to rattle off the details. “The wife isn’t saying much, but as you can see, her face is telling the story. Luke called 9-1-1, told the dispatcher his dad was killing his mom.” His voice shook a little at that, but he powered on. “We were just down the block, so we got here pretty fast. We heard him screaming at her through the door, but as soon as we knocked it stopped and he answered, all calm and collected, pretended there was nothing wrong.”

Howard sneered in the direction of the apartment even though Bill Campbell was no longer inside. “Real piece of work, that guy.”

“They usually are,” Rollins commented with no lack of disdain.

“Do us a favor, drop the husband at the 16th, would you? We’ll talk to the wife and kid,” Sonny offered. If they were getting stuck with this, he’d rather just take over now.

Officer Howard looked relieved. “Sure thing.”

With Howard off to meet his partner at their squad car so they could transport Campbell, Sonny and Amanda reentered the apartment. Mrs. Campbell and Luke hadn’t moved, only now she was running her fingers reassuringly through Luke’s short, ash blond hair, murmuring something they couldn’t quite make out.

Sonny let Amanda approach first, knowing from experience that abuse victims tended to be more comfortable with female officers.

All of Amanda’s earlier irritation was tucked away and she spoke softly. “Mrs. Campbell? I’m Detective Rollins and this is Detective Carisi.” She eyed Melissa’s quickly darkening bruises. “Would you like us to get you some medical attention? Or at least some ice?”

She shook her head, wincing at the effort. “No, I told those other officers that I’m fine. This is all just a big misunderstanding. Billy, he…” Melissa glanced down at Luke who was listening to every word.

“Hey, Luke, why don’t you show me your room?” Sonny asked jovially.

Luke looked up at his mom, who nodded. “Go ahead.”

After one last concerned look at his mother, Luke slid off of the couch and led Sonny down the short hallway toward his room.

“Seems like a good kid,” Rollins said, sitting down in the spot that Luke had vacated.

“He is.”

“I know this is hard,” Amanda began gently. “But can you tell me what happened?”

“Nothing, I—Billy just has a short temper, that’s all. It’s not a big deal, really. Can you please just have those officers bring him back?” She’d been staring at her hands in her lap, her fingers twisting together nervously, but now she looked up at Rollins, her eyes desperate.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. We’re required by law to arrest someone if we get a domestic violence call.”

Melissa’s good eye, the one that wasn’t bruised over and beginning to swell, widened. “Domestic violence? No, no. That’s not what this—no. He’s not—we’re not—like that.”

“Okay,” Amanda said slowly, realizing her mistake. “What is he like?”

Down the hall, in a room barely big enough to fit the twin bed and the dresser that filled it, Luke was showing Sonny several ships, superheroes, dinosaurs, and other figures built from Legos. Each one was placed equidistant from the other on a set of shelves that hung on the wall.

“You built all these yourself?” Sonny was impressed. His parents had bought him a few of the sets when he was a kid, but Sonny had never had the patience to actually turn them into what they were meant to be. Bricks that were supposed to become the Millenium Falcon were simply used for whatever quick, random creations he could come up with until he grew bored and dumped them into the bin that held all of the other sets that had never reached their full potential.

Luke just nodded, adjusting a model of a helicopter so that it sat straight on the shelf.

“It was pretty brave of you to call 9-1-1,” Sonny started off carefully.

The boy didn’t say anything, continuing to straighten Lego models that already looked perfectly straight to Sonny.

“I know it’s hard to talk about,” Sonny tried again, “but we just want to help you and your mom. That’s why you called us, right? So we could help?”

Luke nodded again, his hand resting on a model of a t-rex.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

He didn’t answer at first and Sonny could almost see his brain working to decide if he could trust him or not. “I missed one,” he said finally.

“What did you miss?”

Luke gestured to the pile of Legos on his floor and what looked to be the beginnings of a pirate ship. “If I’m good mom lets me watch TV while I build, but then football came on. He stepped on a Lego and got really mad and then—” His voice trembled and Sonny’s heart wrenched as tears welled in his dark brown eyes.

“Your mom tried to stop him?” he guessed. He’d seen it before.

Luke just nodded, chin still trembling as he fought back tears. Sonny had a feeling that Bill Campbell didn’t react too well whenever his boy cried.

“It’s okay,” Sonny told him, placing a gentle hand on the kid’s shoulder. Luke flinched at first and Sonny nearly pulled away, but then Luke relaxed under his hand. “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”

“But if I didn’t—”

“No matter what you did, no one should hit you or your mom.” Sonny tried to keep his tone gentle even though he felt his own rage bubbling within him. “Okay?”

This time Luke nodded and a few tears spilled down over his cheeks.

“Want me to take you back to your mom?” Sonny hoped he’d given Rollins enough time. Luke nodded again, more vigorously this time. “C’mon.”

When they went back to the living room, Rollins was on the couch with Mrs. Campbell, a gentle hand on her knee. Sonny was happy to see that Melissa was holding a bag of frozen peas to her cheek. At least that was something.

She dropped the bag to her lap when she saw Luke and Sonny, holding her arms out when she noted Luke’s distress. The boy ran to her, pressing up against her and wrapping his arms around her neck. Sonny watched as Melissa winced in pain, but didn’t pull back, instead wrapping her arms around Luke as well.

“I think we have enough for now,” Rollins said, giving Sonny a look as she stood from the couch. She dug in her pocket. “But here’s my card if you have any questions or anything.” Mrs. Campbell released one arm from around Luke to take the card.

“Actually,” Sonny started tentatively. He knew this wasn’t going to go over well, but it was necessary. “Would it be okay if I take some pictures? For the file.” 

“Do you have to?” Melissa asked over Luke’s shoulder, eyeing Sonny’s phone as if it were a weapon.

“It would really help,” Rollins told her.

She looked like she wanted to say no, but this was not a woman who was used to standing up for herself, especially not with a male authority figure, and Sonny felt like an asshole for being another man who she was too afraid to go up against.

She finally nodded. “Okay.”

Sonny did his best to be quick and as noninvasive as possible, but Melissa still flinched each time the camera sound effect rang out in the quiet room. When he was sure he’d gotten every angle, he pocketed his phone with a murmured, “Thank you.”

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” Rollins asked. “Do you have any family we can call? Or we could help you get into a shelter.”

Melissa shook her head. “No. My family, they’re in Milwaukee, and I need to be here when Billy gets home. I have to make dinner.”

Rollins glanced at Sonny and her eyes said it all. Melissa Campbell was in no way ready to leave her husband. Sonny only hoped that they’d be able to keep him in jail so that she wouldn’t have to.

“Well, you have my card. Please call us if you need anything.”

Melissa nodded, pulling Luke to her again as Sonny and Amanda headed for the door.

They both let out a breath as soon as they were on the sidewalk, like it was a relief just to be outside of the building, away from the pain and terror contained within its walls.

“Think she’ll come around?” Sonny asked, climbing into the passenger seat as Rollins slid behind the wheel.

“Honestly?” She looked over at him, face grim. “No.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you're all liking this so far!
> 
> Special shout out to Power-Bottom-Barba for working this entire fic through with me. Thanks for always being there to bounce ideas off of, read over things, or even provide a synonym. You're the best! <3

Sitting in the interrogation room, Bill Campbell looked nothing like the angry, ranting man Sonny had seen in the hallway of his building. He was the picture of calm, the only hint that he was sitting in a police precinct and not at his own kitchen table was the way he rubbed his wrist, most likely trying to soothe it from where the cuffs had been clamped too tight. 

Sonny made a mental note to track down Officer Rodriguez and buy her lunch.

“You ready?” Rollins asked, gesturing toward the interrogation room with the legal pad in her hand.

He turned from the window and nodded.

“Finally,” Campbell said when Rollins pushed open the door. “Can we get this over with so I can go home?”

“What makes you think you’re going home?” Sonny asked, pulling back his chair with a scrape of metal against concrete, and sat down heavily.

“Look,” Bill leaned forward, hands splayed out on the table. “This is all just a misunderstanding. Mel and I, we were having a disagreement and got a little loud and the neighbors heard. It’s no big deal.”

“Really?” Rollins leaned back in her chair, crossing in her arms. “Just a little disagreement?”

“That’s right.”

“This little disagreement left your wife with a black eye and fingerprints on her neck.”

“Okay, so it got heated.” Campbell stayed calm. “She came at me and I was just defending myself.”

“ _ She _ attacked  _ you _ ?” Sonny asked and Campbell nodded. “Your wife is what? A hundred and twenty pounds? I find it hard to believe that it took wrapping your hand around her neck to stop her.”

“You haven’t seen Mel when she’s pissed off. She doesn’t stop.”

“So you did wrap your hand around her neck?” Rollins asked, keeping her tone conversational. If the situation wasn’t so screwed up Sonny would laugh. It sounded like they were all chatting over brunch instead of discussing a violent act.

“I don’t know. I may have,” Campbell shook his head. “It all happened fast. She was coming at me and I just reacted.”

“Now,” Sonny leaned forward, tapping his index finger on the table. “I couldn’t help but notice that you don’t have a mark on you. Not even a scratch.”

“I stopped her before she could,” he explained easily. “She does this all the time. I know when it’s coming.”

“So that’s what you’re sticking with?” Rollins was going impatient.

Campbell held out his hands and shrugged, like he didn’t know what she wanted from him. “That’s what happened.”

“Good thing it doesn’t matter.” Rollins stood, her chair screeching across the floor loud enough to make Sonny cringe.

“What does that mean?” For the first time Campbell’s practiced confidence slipped.

“It means it doesn’t matter how much you lie, you’re going into lockup regardless,” Rollins gloated.

“There’s no way Mel’s gonna press charges, so just let me go.”

The grin that crossed Amanda’s face was scary and Sonny was glad it wasn’t directed at him. “See, that’s the thing, Bill. In cases of domestic violence, we can bring assault charges without the victim, so you’re gonna sit in the tombs until you’re arraigned on Monday.”

“Monday? No, I have a job. You can’t just keep me here.”

“Actually, we can.”

Campbell slapped a hand to the table, standing so quickly that his chair fell over backwards. “You bitch! If you think—”

Sonny took that as his cue, standing and pulling his cuffs from his belt. “William Campbell, you’re under arrest. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

“Enjoy your weekend!” Amanda called out gleefully as Sonny shoved him out of the interrogation room, continuing to recite the Miranda as he went..

* * *

 

Sonny glanced at the clock in the upper right hand corner of his laptop screen and was glad to see it wasn’t as late as he thought it was. If he finished the arrest report fast enough, there would still be time for he and Rafael to go out for a nice dinner. Hopefully it would be enough to salvage their Saturday. 

As soon as he’d returned from putting Campbell in a holding cell, he’d told Amanda to go home. There was no sense in both of them sitting around the precinct when there was only one report and she had Jesse waiting on her.

She’d been grateful, and even now, as he filled in the seemingly endless lines and boxes, he was glad to have made the offer.

It took awhile longer, but he finally finished the report and was sending it off to the lieutenant when the door to the squad room swung open. Sonny turned to find Melissa Campbell speaking to the uniformed officer at the desk by the door, her hand placed protectively on Luke’s shoulder.

She wore large sunglasses, but they didn’t do much to hide the bruises that bloomed beyond their borders, even darker now than they had been earlier that afternoon. She’d flipped up the collar of her polka dot button down shirt, but Sonny could still see the deep red marks on her neck that had been left by her husband’s fingers.

“I got it, Rob, thanks,” Sonny said, rising from his chair. “Mrs. Campbell, is everything okay?”

“We’re fine,” Melissa said shakily, her apparent nerves betraying her words. “I was just coming to pick up Billy. I thought he’d be home by now, but maybe he needs bail money or—” She moved to pull her wallet from her purse, but Sonny held up a hand.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Campbell.” He sent a quick look at Luke. He really didn’t want to have this conversation in front of the boy, but he didn’t have much choice. “But your husband won’t be coming home, at least not tonight.”

“What?” She pulled her sunglasses off with a shaky hand, moving them to rest on the top of her head, and only years of experience in controlling his reactions kept Sonny from wincing. Even though he’d already seen the damage Bill Campbell had inflicted, it was still horrifying to see again.

He grabbed a chair and pulled it near his desk and gestured for her to sit down. She looked unsure, but finally lowered herself into the chair, keeping Luke held close to her. Sonny sank into his own chair, leaning forward with his forearms on his thighs. “Mr. Campbell has already been transferred over to the jail, where he’ll wait until Monday morning. Then he’ll be arraigned.”

Melissa looked confused. “Arraigned?”

“It’s where the judge decides if he’ll get bail, and how much it will be,” he explained. “If he gets bail and you have the money and want to pay it, then he’ll get to go home until the trial.” He hoped for both Melissa and Luke that Bill Campbell didn’t make bail, even if she thought she wanted him home.

She shook her head. “A trial? I don’t understand. I don’t want to press charges. Don’t I have to press charges for you to—for this to go to trial?”

It was Sonny’s turn to shake his head. “I’m afraid not. New York law allows us to charge him even if you choose not to testify.”

“But he knows, right?” She suddenly looked panicked. “That I’m not pressing charges? That I won’t testify? You told him that? Because if he thinks—”

Sonny glanced at Luke who had stayed silent, but was watching them intently, and, more importantly, taking in every word.

“Hey,” Sonny said to the boy, fishing in his pocket and pulling out a couple of bills. “There’s a couple vending machines just through there.” He gestured toward the break room. “You wanna grab a soda or something?”

Just like he had earlier in the day, Luke looked to his mom for permission.

“Go ahead. You can even get a candy bar if you want.”

“Thank you,” he told Sonny quietly, taking the money that the detective proffered and heading for the break room.

“Mrs. Campbell,” Sonny began once Luke was out of earshot. “If you’re afraid of what Bill might do when he comes home, maybe you would consider testifying? That would help to ensure that he stays in lockup.”

He watched her begin to tremble at just the suggestion.

“No, no, I don’t want that. I just want all of this to be over.”

Sonny got the feeling that she wasn’t just talking about what had happened that day.

“There are things we can do to help you. If you want out, I can help.” He tried not to sound too eager, too pushy. He knew from experience that it would only cause her to shut down, but he needed her to know that she had options.

“No, that would just—No. I can’t.”

“Well, you don’t have to decide right now, okay? Take tomorrow to think about it.”

Melissa nodded her agreement, but it seemed more like it was to appease him than anything else and he decided to back off.  Rollins was right. She wasn’t ready.

* * *

“You just couldn’t resist, could you?” Sonny leaned a shoulder on Barba’s office doorway, a smirk on his face. He should have known when he’d texted Rafael to see if he was home, that he’d be at the office instead.

Rafael, leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on the corner of his desk, looked at Sonny over the open file he was reading. “If you can go into work on a Saturday, so can I.”

Sonny shook his head, stepping into the room. “But I was forced to go in.”

“Well, maybe if I hadn’t been abandoned at the museum, I wouldn’t have had to resort to working.” Rolling his eyes at his drama queen of a husband, Sonny perched on the edge of the desk and Rafael eyed the folder in his hands. “This seems like a professional visit anyway, so why are you giving me shit?”

“Because it’s fun?” Sonny leaned down, brushing a quick kiss over his lips. Rafael refused to kiss him back. “Aw, come on.”

“What’s the case?” he asked, and Sonny sighed, preferring to continue their banter, but knowing he might as well get it over with.

“DV,” Sonny started carefully, watching Rafael’s jaw clench tighter and tighter as he explained all of the details. “So she’s in denial, but he’s in the tombs, sweating it out until arraignment on Monday. We have enough, I think, with the 9-1-1 call and the photos to make a case for assault.”

Rafael nodded slowly. “You’d think, but without the wife, it’s hard to convince a jury. If she doesn’t see that he did anything wrong, why should they put him away?”

Sonny tilted his head, looking him over carefully. “Look, why don’t we hand this off to another ADA? No one will think anything of it.”

Rafael’s gaze sharpened. “What does that mean?”

“C’mon, Raf, you know what it means.”

“That you think I can’t objectively do my job. That I can’t prosecute a case without my personal feelings getting in the way. I think you’re confusing me with yourself.” He dropped his feet to the floor, standing to pace.

Sonny frowned, standing as well, just so he could turn to face him where he was now in the center of the room. He was used to Rafael deflecting; he wasn’t going to let it work this time. “Don’t do that. I’m just trying to—”

“Sonny, if you say protect me, I swear to god…”

“So what if I am? Isn’t that my job? To look out for you? To keep you from taking on something that could hurt you?”

“Were you not paying attention to the other DV cases I’ve prosecuted? I seemed to do just fine then. I didn’t collapse under the horror of my childhood memories.”

“Those were big splashy cases, the type you love, this is nothing. Just a basic DV. I just thought that you could avoid having to deal with—”

But Rafael wasn’t listening anymore. “Just a basic DV? You think a man beating his wife in front of their child is nothing? That it’s beneath me to try to put this man away?”

“No, you know that’s not what I meant. I just—” Sonny nearly growled in frustration, knowing that no matter what he said, Rafael would find a way to argue against it. He would always be the better lawyer. “Forget it, okay?” He held up his hands in surrender. “Just forget I said anything.”

Rafael stared at him, trying to see past the haze of anger and anxiety that had surrounded him since the first time “DV” had come from Sonny’s lips, and the defeat he saw there had him deflating. “I’m sorry, I…”

“I know,” Sonny said softly, holding out his hand.

Rafael came back around the desk, and instead of taking Sonny’s hand, wrapped his arms around his waist and rested his cheek against Sonny’s chest. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” Sonny said again, holding Rafael tight against him.

“I can handle this case. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Sonny sighed, and then did something he never did—at least not with Rafael—he lied. “I know.”

* * *

They skipped going to a restaurant and instead grabbed sushi to go from the place across the street from their apartment. They even came away with a few extra rolls thanks to the crush the owner’s daughter had on Sonny. Anytime she was behind the counter all he had to do was flash those dimples of his and her cheeks would go pink. 

Rafael couldn’t blame the girl. He knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of that grin.

He dropped the bag on their table that sat on the small expanse of floor—boasted to be a dining room by his broker—between the kitchen and living room, along with his briefcase before moving into the kitchen to pour a glass of scotch for himself and to grab a beer for Sonny.

“Oh, I see,” he said when he returned to the living room and found Sonny already settled onto the couch with his tray of sushi,  eyes on the TV where the Mets were in the bottom of the 2nd inning against the Yankees. “All that, ‘Let’s just eat at home, Raf. It’s been a long day,’ bullshit was just so you could watch baseball.”

“No,” Sonny said around a California roll, waving his chopsticks around. “It’s just a nice bonus, that’s all.”  Rafael just rolled his eyes and sat Sonny’s beer on a coaster on the coffee table before moving back over to the table. “Come on, come watch with me.”

“I’ll pass.” Rafael pulled the file on the Campbell case out of his briefcase. “I apparently have an arraignment Monday morning that I need to prepare for.”

“But it’s the Subway Series,” Sonny told him like that would make some sort of difference.

“Yeah, and it would really just be icing on the cake to watch the Yankees win,” he grumbled, settling in at the table with his scotch, sushi, and casefile.

His father had been there, in the back of his mind, ever since Sonny had walked into his office with this case, so it wasn’t much of a leap for Rafael to conjure up images of him, drunk and yelling at the TV. It didn’t matter if the Yankees were winning or losing, he was yelling, but at least on the nights they won, yelling was as far as it went. On the nights they lost...well, it didn’t stop there.

God, he hated the Yankees.

“Why do you automatically assume the Yankees are going to win?”

Rafael just stared at him, sashimi held tight between two chopsticks, just hanging mid air. “You’re kidding, right?” Sonny just huffed and turned his attention back to the TV. “That’s what I thought,” Rafael commented, mostly to himself, before sticking the piece of tuna in his mouth and chewing triumphantly.

They settled in then, Rafael reviewing the casefile and Sonny watching baseball, both enjoying their meal and each other’s company, even if it was only tangential.

But then Sonny whooped, loud enough to have Rafael looking up at him. “Guess who just took the lead?” he asked smugly, grinning as he finished off his beer.

“It’s only the,” Rafael paused to glance at the TV, “fifth inning. There’s plenty of time for them to screw it up.” And then, “Aw, come on. You’re swinging at that?”

“I thought you didn’t care about the game?”

“I don’t.” If the finality in his tone wasn’t enough, he made it a point of turning his eyes back to his work. But only a moment later they were back on the screen. “He’s going to strike out anyway.”

Sonny only narrowed his eyes at him before turning back to the game.

“Told you,” Rafael said, his turn to be smug, when the batter did just that.

“Well of course he did. You jinxed it!”

“Every time you watch this insufferable team that guy strikes out. It wasn’t my doing.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just go back to your casefile,” Sonny muttered grumpily, but with enough playfulness in his tone that Rafael knew it was mostly for show.

Even still, Rafael Barba was never one to be told what to do, so he grabbed his empty scotch glass and carried it into the kitchen. When he returned Sonny saw that he’d swapped it for two beers.

“Move.” He nudged Sonny with his knee and Sonny scooted to the side of the couch with a grin, allowing Rafael to settle in next to him.

* * *

 

“Holy shit!” Rafael grabbed at Sonny’s shoulder and shook him a little when the Mets increased their lead in the bottom of the seventh. “They might actually pull this off.” 

Sonny laughed and looked over at his husband, taking in the rare sight in front of him. Rafael was literally sitting on the edge of his seat, beer in hand and the buttons at the collar of his polo undone. Even his hair, normally swooped to perfection, had come loose in his excitement.

“I told you,” was all Sonny said, knowing that if he pointed out how much Rafael had gotten into the game, he’d more than likely quit watching. “You’re the one who had no faith in them.”

“It’s not about faith.” He swigged from his beer bottle. “It’s about facts and statistics.”

Sonny waved a hand like those had no place in sports. “Nah, it’s about heart.”

Rafael scoffed, but as the game wore on he found himself leaning in Sonny’s direction. The Mets held their lead, increased it even, and it was almost like they knew that a Yankees loss was what he needed after the case that had been dropped in his lap.

It was stupid, he knew. He hated when people sentimentalized things, especially sports, but there was something great in sitting here with his husband, enjoying knowing that his father was spinning in his grave at his precious Yankees losing to the Mets of all teams.

Yes, perhaps heart had something to do with it.


	3. Chapter 3

They spent a rare Sunday lazing about in their apartment—Sonny even skipped Mass, but he made Rafael swear not to tell his mother—neither changing out of their sweatpants.  They ordered in both breakfast and dinner—something Sonny would normally balk at, but the thought of untangling himself from Rafael long enough to cook a meal was unappealing. They talked and laughed and read and made love and dozed, and Sonny’s phone didn’t ring at all. For once, crime took a day off. 

But soon it was Monday morning, and they were back in the courthouse with Rafael preparing to arraign Bill Campbell. It was the first time he’d gotten a look at the man, and he was reminded yet again of how there was no way to tell on the surface if someone was evil or not.

Campbell looked like he stepped out of the pages of a department store catalogue. His hair, somewhere between a blond and a light brown, was trimmed neatly, his button down shirt was pressed to perfection, and he had that all American boy look down pat, even if he hadn’t been a boy for over a decade.

It only served to make Rafael’s carefully suppressed anger boil just below the surface. He’d run into several men like Bill Campbell throughout his lifetime. Men who were born with the right face, the right shade of skin, who thought they could do whatever they pleased and were only encouraged by the fact that they often got away with it.

Not this time. He wouldn’t allow it.

As the case was called and he approached the podium, he caught sight of Melissa Campbell, and his fist clenched around his gold pen so tightly that it would leave indentations in his skin.

She’d put on make-up to try to hide the bruises, but they still showed through, and she’d looped a scarf around her neck despite the still mild temperatures. But what upset him the most was that she sat directly behind her husband, ever doting and supportive.

Rafael would never understand it, not with his own mother and not with the victims he dealt with on a regular basis. He was educated enough and intelligent enough to know the psychology behind it all, how these women were mentally and emotionally manipulated in addition to their physical torture, but there was still that part of him that couldn’t fathom staying in a situation like that.

He’d begged his mother to leave his father on more than one occasion, usually as he was sitting with her on the bathroom floor, wiping blood from her face with a damp washcloth, but each time she’d refused. It was hard to reconcile, a woman as fierce and strong-willed as his mother, making excuses for a man who didn’t deserve them.

It had taken Rafael, fifteen at the time, getting kicked hard enough to break two ribs for his mother to finally walk out. Putting herself in danger day after day was one thing, but she’d no longer risk her only son. He still remembered the fire in her eyes that day, how proud he’d been to help her pack while his father was at work, zipping and lugging suitcases to the door despite the stabbing pain in his side.

His eyes burned at the memories and it was only the judge’s gavel that had him shaking himself back into the present.

“Mr. D’Angelo, on the charges of assault in the second degree, and criminal obstruction of breathing or blood circulation, how does your client plead?”

Barba knew it was petty to bring the criminal obstruction charge, it was just a misdemeanor after all, but he felt an extra little bit of satisfaction as the judge read it out.

“Not guilty, your honor,” D’Angelo spoke for his client. “And we request ROR. The defendant is gainfully employed as a department store manager, he’s a loving father and husband, he—”

“Yes, he’s such a family man that he likes to beat his wife in front of their child.” The words were out before Barba could stop them, not that he probably would have stopped them anyway.

“Watch it, Mr. Barba,” the judge admonished him before turning back to D’Angelo.

“The defendant doesn’t even have a passport, your honor. He’s not a flight risk. He’s not a risk to others. His wife, who he’s accused of assaulting, is here supporting him in the courtroom today.”

The judge glanced behind Campbell, spotting Melissa sitting stoic in the row behind him, and Rafael was hopeful when he saw the recognition in the judge’s eyes. It wasn’t his first time around the block and he knew a battered woman when he saw one.

“Mr. Barba? What does the state request on bail?”

“Remand, your honor.”

“Oh, come on,” D’Angelo scoffed. “This is ridiculous, your honor.”

“The defendant is violent and poses a significant threat to others, especially his wife and child,” Rafael argued. “To allow him back into the home would prove to be gross negligence on the court’s part.”

“While I resent the implication of the court’s complicity, I agree that ROR is not the way to go here. Bail is set at $50,000, cash or bond.” The judged banged his gavel signifying the end of the proceedings and Rafael felt the knot between his shoulder blades loosen by the smallest of degrees.

It wasn’t remand, but it was better than nothing. Odds were that the Campbells didn’t have that kind of money lying around, so there was a good chance that Bill Campbell would stay locked up until trial.

“Hey, that was pretty good.” Sonny squeezed his shoulder as he stepped out of the courtroom. He’d been there the whole time. He wanted to be there for Mrs. Campbell, Rafael knew, even if she wouldn’t be there for herself, but he was also worried about Rafael. And Rafael had avoided looking at him throughout the proceedings because he knew seeing the concern in Sonny’s eyes would throw him off of his game, which would almost certainly prove to his husband that he had something to worry about.  “Fifty grand for an assault case?”

“The judge saw what we see,” Rafael said casually, blowing off the compliment as he usually did. As cocky as he was, he never really took credit for the wins.

“Now if we could only get her to see it too.” Sonny nodded to where Melissa Campbell stood, just down the hall, speaking with Bill’s lawyer.

“She will eventually. I just hope it’s not too late when she does.” Barba watched as D’Angelo walked away, leaving Melissa standing awkwardly in the middle of the hall, looking like she didn’t know quite what to do next.

“I’m gonna talk to her again, see if I can get through to her.”

“Sonny-” Rafael tried to stop him, but he was already closing the distance between himself and Melissa. He sighed and spun on his heel, heading for the elevator, not willing to witness the woman’s denial.

“Hey, Mrs. Campbell.” Despite Sonny’s soft tone she jumped at his voice.

“Detective Carisi.” There was a bit of relief in the way she said his name and that gave Sonny a touch of hope. “Maybe you can help me. Mr. D’Angelo said that if we come up with ten percent of the bail amount, we can pay a bondsman. Do you know where I can find one?”

He tried to hide his disappointment. “Five thousand dollars is still a lot of money. Do you have that?”

She nodded. “Billy got some stocks from his company when he was promoted to manager. I think I can cash them in. I just have to figure out how to do that too…”

“Are you sure you want to do that?” It probably wasn’t the most delicate way to handle the situation, but Sonny couldn’t help it. “I just mean, you know if you don’t come up with the money, then Bill will stay in jail until the trial. You and Luke would be safe.”

“I have to get him out.” Her voice shook. “You don’t understand, if he—I have to get him out. Thank you for your help, Detective Carisi,” she said despite the fact that he hadn’t helped her at all, and began to walk away.

“He’s going to kill you.” The certainty in Sonny’s voice was unmistakable, and it at least got her to pause for a moment, but she didn’t turn around. “If you stay with him, he’s going to kill you. And then what will happen to Luke?”

Instead of responding, Melissa squared her shoulders and continued down the hall.  

He found Rafael on the steps of the courthouse, tapping away at his phone screen, his brow furrowed in the way that it always was when he was dealing with work. 

“Thought you’d gone back to the office.”

“Yeah, well, I figured I’d let you walk me.” Rafael tucked his phone in the breast pocket of his dark blue suit jacket. Sonny’s face lit up and he held out his hand, threading his fingers through Rafael’s. “How’d it go with Mrs. Campbell?” The nonchalance in his voice was obviously forced, but Sonny didn’t comment on it.

“Not well,” he answered as they made their way down the steps and onto the sidewalk. He stopped at the coffee cart, ordered Rafael a cup without even asking if he wanted one, and handed it over before continuing. “She’s scared. I can tell that she’s scared, but she’s still going to bail him out.”

Rafael sipped his coffee. “You’ve done what you can. The rest is up to her.”

“Maybe you could talk to her?” Sonny looked over at him hopefully.

“I don’t know that it would do any good,” Rafael hedged.

“I think if anyone could get through to her it’s you. You’ve got…”

Rafael looked up at him, eyes narrowing. “What? Experience with angry, abusive men? I don’t get you, Sonny. Two days ago you were begging me to give this case away and now you want me to get even more involved?”

“But you’re not going to give the case away, so why not try to do some good?”

“Because putting her husband in prison isn’t doing some good?”

“It is. Of course it is.” Sonny ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m just worried what will happen in the meantime.”

They reached the employee entrance to One Hogan Place and Rafael stopped. “You’ve worked enough of these cases to know that she won’t listen to anyone. Not even to someone who’s been there. It won’t help.”

“You’re right.” Sonny reached out and rubbed a thumb across his cheek. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“There are worse qualities than caring too much.”

Sonny’s eyes widened at that, knowing that the Rafael he’d met a few years ago would never have said that. “There are?”

“Not many, but there are a few,” he corrected. “I’ll see you at home?”

Sonny nodded and bent to give him a quick kiss. “See you at home.”

“Sonny?” Rafael’s voice had him turning around. “We need more. Previous 9-1-1 calls, hospital visits. Talk to the neighbors, I’m sure this wasn’t the first time they heard what was happening in that apartment.”

Sonny had already planned on doing all of that, and Rafael knew that too, so Sonny just nodded and made his way down the sidewalk.

* * *

The sound of Sonny’s phone ringing in the middle of the night was nothing new, but that didn’t mean that Rafael liked it. In his line of work he had his fair share of phone calls outside of business hours, but it was nowhere near what Sonny dealt with on a regular basis. He supposed it would help if the powers that be would ever give Liv another detective or two. 

“You aren’t even on call,” he mumbled into his pillow as a bleary-eyed Sonny fished around on the nightstand for his phone.

“Since when does that matter?” Sonny grumbled, finally finding the phone. “Carisi.” He sat up almost immediately, which had Rafael finally opening his eyes, curious now. “When? And the kid? Ok, I’ll be right there.”

“Melissa Campbell,” Rafael said knowingly, watching as Sonny swung his legs out of the bed and went to work getting dressed. “How bad is it this time?”

Sonny paused in the motion of buttoning his pants and the look in his eyes told Rafael everything he needed to know before he even opened his mouth. “She’s dead.”

Rafael felt something in his chest tighten. It was decades old, the fear that he’d come out of his room in the morning to find his mother not breathing on the floor, but he could feel it now, fresh and alive. He did his best to school his features, but Sonny clocked it, even as he was buttoning up his shirt. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Rafael assured him. Sonny didn’t believe him, but didn’t have it in him to argue at the moment.

“He’s only been out a day.”

“I know,” Rafael said solemnly.

Somehow, Melissa Campbell had figured out how to liquidate enough of her husband’s stocks to pay a bail bondsman. Rafael couldn’t help, but wonder if he’d talked to her like Sonny had suggested, if she would have listened. If Bill Campbell would still be in jail and she would still be alive.

“Why didn’t she listen to me? I tried to—”

“You can’t blame yourself. She wasn’t in a place to hear it. She wasn’t ready and there’s no way to know that she ever would have been.” The words were for himself as much as Sonny. He took a shallow breath, his lungs still fighting against him, and asked the question he’d been putting off. “How’s the boy?”

“Physically? He’ll be ok. Otherwise? He’s the one who called it in, so…”

Rafael nodded, knowing everything that Sonny wasn’t saying. There’d be mental and emotional trauma Luke would have to deal with for the rest of his life. “Go. Arrest the son of a bitch.”

The look in Sonny’s eyes was resolute as he bent down over the bed and brushed a quick kiss across Rafael’s forehead. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

A few minutes later Rafael heard their apartment door close, and then the sound of Sonny’s key relocking their deadbolt. He tried not to think about the scene he’d be walking in on, but it was to no avail.

He checked his phone, seeing that it was just a little past 4am. No, he wouldn’t be getting anymore sleep tonight. So he rose, trudging into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, leaning against the counter as it brewed, staring at nothing and thinking of Luke Campbell. He’d been in the boy’s shoes, watching helplessly as his father took out his misguided drunken rage on his mother, but he’d never had to go through this.

He said a silent prayer of thanks to a god he wasn’t even sure he believed in, and he didn’t even realize he was crying until he felt the cold trail the tear left on his cheek.

* * *

When Sonny pulled up in front of the Campbell’s apartment building it was the chaotic scene he’d been expecting a few days before. Three squad cars sat haphazardly near the curb, their swirling lights bouncing off of the building, and a couple of paramedics loaded an empty gurney into the back of an ambulance. The ME van was pulling to a stop just behind them, ready to take their place. 

A few neighbors stood out in front of the building in pajamas and robes, mostly just to gawk and gossip, and Sonny walked past them, badging the patrolman at the door before starting the climb to the fourth floor.

The door to 4F was open, and uniformed officers spilled out into the hallway. Sonny swept his jacket to the side, revealing the badge on his hip to the officer posted outside the door. The young officer simply nodded as Sonny stepped inside.

The copper smell of blood hit him as soon as he stepped over the threshold, a smell that he’d unfortunately gotten used to during his stint at homicide, but even years of experience didn’t stop him from being horrified at the sight of Melissa Campbell, splayed on the floor near the coffee table, her face frozen in fear, her scalp bloody.

The corner of the coffee table, caked in blood and dark hair, told him enough of what had happened. He silently made the sign of the cross, and stepped out of the way so that the crime scene photographer could continue his work.

He was about to grab a uniform to give him the details when Fin came from the hallway that led to the bedrooms. “Good, you’re here. Kid won’t talk to me, maybe he’ll talk to you.”

“I can try. They already take Campbell down to the precinct?” He hadn’t seen Bill Campbell in any of the squad cars out front, and he certainly wasn’t here.

Fin shook his head. “He wasn’t here when the unis showed up.”

“He’s in the wind? Why the hell are we just standing around?”

“From the looks of things, this happened hours before the kid called it in. I was trying to get him to tell me for sure, but it seems like Campbell has hell of a head start.”

Sonny sighed, turning for the hallway, preparing himself to question a ten year old about the murder of his mother.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, to Power-Bottom-Barba for the encouragement. This thing would probably never get written if I didn't have you as a sounding board. <3

“Still nothing?” 

Sonny shook his head even though Rafael, stuck at the courthouse on another case, couldn’t see him. “No. We still haven’t gotten his financials and the kid doesn’t know who any of his dad’s friends are. We’re running everything we can think of, but without anything to go on...”

“How is he?”

Sonny knew he didn’t mean Bill Campbell. He looked around the squad room, a frenzy of activity as the lieutenant coordinated canvasses, roadblocks, and BOLO’s, and stepped out into the hallway where it was a touch more quiet.

It had taken some coaxing, but he’d finally gotten Luke to talk a little. From what Sonny could gather, first on Campbell’s list of priorities after making bail was to show his displeasure with his son for calling 9-1-1 in the first place.

He’d screamed and railed and broke things, but when he’d raised his fist to Luke, knocked him to the ground and then went to kick him, Melissa stepped in. Luke didn’t know much of what happened after that. He’d ran to hide in the hall closet, hands over his ears, and waited for it to end.

And even when things had gone quiet, he still waited, too afraid to come out. He didn’t know how long, just that it was a long time, and, finally, when he crawled out, he found his mother, bloody and motionless.

“You helped before, so I called again, but...” Luke had trailed off, looking up at Sonny with tear-filled eyes.

Sonny thought of that look now, as he answered Rafael. “Not well. Doesn’t help that he’s been sitting here waiting for DCFS to show up.”

“He’s going into the system?”

“We were able to locate Melissa Campbell’s family in Milwaukee, but they won’t be here until tomorrow. They’ll have to place him somewhere tonight.”  

“Like this kid hasn’t been through enough,” Rafael grumbled.

“At least it’s just the one night. He’s lucky there’s some family for him to go to.” Sonny did his best to look on the bright side, but the hopefulness was gone from his voice when he spoke again. “It was awful though, Raf. Telling them. And not in the usual way, but because they didn’t even sound surprised. It’s like they’ve been waiting on that phone call.”

Rafael was quiet a moment, and Sonny was about to ask if he was still there when he finally spoke. “They probably have been.”

It was enough to have Sonny wishing for the thousandth time that Rafael had been willing to hand this case off to someone else. “Raf, I—”

“Hey,” Rollins leaned out into the hallway. “Liv wants us to go by the Campbell apartment again, see if we can find anything that might tell us where Bill ran off to.”

“Hold on, Raf.” Sonny pulled his phone away from his ear, pressing it to his chest to muffle their conversation, “The unis and CSU already combed the place.”

“Okay, you tell her that.” Amanda gestured toward the squad room where Olivia continued to bark out orders.

Sonny just sighed, bringing the phone back to his ear. “I gotta go.”

Amanda did her best to pretend not to listen to Sonny’s murmured “I love you”, or his assurances that he’d be careful. Even after all this time it still weirded her out to think of Barba as affectionate. When she’d first found out about the two of them she’d been concerned, worried that the ADA would chew Sonny up and spit him out, but it seemed as if Carisi turned Barba to mush. Sometimes she thought that might be worse.

Sonny had just pressed the button for the elevator when Olivia hurried out into the hallway. “Wait, guys. Financials finally came in. Campbell rented a car in the Bronx and then withdrew the maximum from a nearby ATM. Odds are he continued heading north. We’re getting word out to all local PDs, state troopers, and border guards.”

“So you still want us to check the apartment? Find out if he’s got anything that indicates he knows someone upstate?”

Olivia shook her head at Sonny’s question. “No. You two start driving. I want you in the area if he’s found and at this time of day it will take you over an hour just to get to Yonkers, and he’s had hell of a head start. I’ll keep you updated on what we find out here.”

“I’m driving,” Amanda told Sonny, hitting the button for the elevator again since it had come and gone in the time Olivia had been talking.

Sonny knew better than to argue.

* * *

Rafael wasn’t sure what he was doing at the precinct. Sonny and the rest of the squad were upstate, trying to track down Bill Campbell, but he’d finished work for the day and had found himself heading here instead of home. 

There was a restlessness in it—he hated any part of a case where he was completely useless—but he knew that it was anxiety that fueled this excursion as well.  

It wasn’t something he’d ever admit, but he hated being home without Sonny. It was strange, up until the gangly detective had entered his life, he’d relished in solitude, but now the apartment was too quiet, too empty, when his husband wasn’t around.

The feeling was only exacerbated when Sonny was off doing something dangerous. He couldn’t help, but think back to the manhunt for Carl Rudnick and Greg Yates, and how Dodds had returned with a gunshot wound on top of the other bodies they’d left in their wake.

He didn’t think Bill Campbell was quite at the level of evil as those two, but desperate men did desperate things and, though he was no shrink, he felt that it wasn’t beyond Campbell to take a shot a cop.

He ran a fingertip across the wood top of Sonny’s desk, smiling slightly as he took in the disorder that made perfect sense to Sonny. He’d long given up trying to decipher his husband’s “organizational system.”

Rafael sighed, knowing that this was a wasted trip, and started for the door, when he caught sight through the break room window of a young boy sitting at the table, a soda and a pile of legos in front of him.

He hesitated a moment, knowing it was probably a bad idea, but there was something that compelled him toward the room. “Still waiting on DCFS?” he asked the uniform who stood outside the door.

The officer nodded. “Apparently they’re really backed up tonight.”

When weren’t they backed up, Rafael thought as he stepped into the break room. “You must be Luke.”

The boy looked up at him, wide eyed, but didn’t say a word, a yellow lego held between his thumb and forefinger.

Rafael moved slowly, gently pulling out a chair and settling in across from him. “What are you making?” he asked lamely, already regretting ever stepping foot into the room. Kids were not his strong suit. The only experience he really had with any was Noah and he was much younger than Luke, and luckily hadn’t suffered the same trauma (at least not that he could remember).

Luke ignored the question and placed the brick where he’d been planning, but Rafael could see that his hand was shaking.

He hadn’t intended on scaring the boy, but he should have known that a strange man wouldn’t go over well. He decided on a different tactic. “My name is Rafael, I’m a lawyer and I put bad guys away. I think you know my husband, Detective Carisi.”

Luke glanced up at this. “You know Sonny?” He seemed skeptical.

Rafael fought an eye roll. Of course he would be Sonny and not Detective Carisi. “Yes, Sonny and I are married.”

It didn’t seem to phase the kid one way or the other that two men were married and that surprised Rafael a little bit. Bill Campbell didn’t seem the kind to teach his son tolerance. “And you both catch bad guys?”

“In a way. Sonny catches them and I make sure they stay caught.”

Luke seemed to take this in a moment, his eyes going back to his creation. “My dad...will Sonny catch him?”

“Do you want him to?”

“I don’t know.”

Rafael appreciated the boy’s honesty. “That’s okay. You don’t have to know.” He looked up at the clock on the wall. “I haven’t had dinner yet, have you?”

“Officer Young got me some chips.” Luke pointed at the vending machine.

“Well, I’m going to order a pizza.” Kids liked pizza, right? “You can have some if you want, but if not, these cops, they’re like vultures, it won’t go to waste.”

“I want pizza,” Luke told him.

“Good luck fighting off the unis,” Rafael said dramatically, pulling out his phone.

* * *

Rafael hadn’t been asleep long when when the narrow shaft of light spilled into the room as Sonny slipped into their bedroom. He’d been at the station well into the night, polishing off a pizza with Luke— the kid could eat—and then awkwardly attempting to make conversation with him until they’d both settled into a much more comfortable silence - Rafael working on a case and Luke continuing to build his lego sculpture.

Eventually an officer had gotten Luke settled on a cot in the bunk room, assuring Rafael that he’d keep an eye on him until the social worker showed up. After making the officer swear to never tell any of the detectives that he’d ever been there, he’d made his way tiredly uptown.

And now Sonny was tiptoeing into their room, doing his best not to make any noise and failing miserably when he hit his shin on the corner of the bed. “Son of a bitch,” he hissed, keeping his voice to a whisper even in his agony.

“I’m awake, so turn on a light before you kill yourself,” Rafael grumbled, rolling over to face him, squinting as Sonny flipped on his bedside lamp. He was wearing his suit pants from earlier in the day, but now he wore his NYPD windbreaker over his white shirt and burgundy tie. Rafael hated that jacket. He had a visceral reaction every time he saw Sonny wearing it, some sort of pavlovian response that told him his husband was about to do, or had just finished doing, something dangerous.

“Sorry for waking you.” Sonny stripped off the jacket and pulled at his already loosened tie until it slipped from his neck.

“I was barely sleeping.” Rafael waved one hand and then rubbed the other over his face. “You’re home so I’m assuming you caught him.”

Sonny, down to his underwear now, nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. “State troopers spotted the rental, and pulled him over.” Almost as if by instinct alone, Rafael reached out and used his fingertips to run light circles over Sonny’s bare back as his talked. “Was a pretty easy grab after all that. He wasn’t armed or anything. Rollins and I just got him booked.”

“Good.”

Sonny leaned back, letting his head rest on Rafael’s chest while his legs still dangled off of the side of the bed. “So why weren’t you sleepin’?”

“You know it’s hard for me to sleep when you’re not home.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. He didn’t like keeping things from Sonny, but he knew if he told him he’d spent most of the night with Luke, Sonny would just think he was getting too deeply into this case. He wasn’t and he didn’t feel like listening to Sonny argue otherwise.

“You’re such a softy,” Sonny rolled his head on Rafael’s chest so that he could look up at him with a grin.

“Only for you.” Rafael reached out a hand, placing it on Sonny’s cheek and running his thumb lovingly over the bit of stubble that had started to grow in.

Sonny’s teasing grin deepened into a genuine smile and he nuzzled into Rafael’s hand. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

* * *

  
“And he’s with them now?” Rafael spoke into his phone, leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on his desk. “No, no, that’s fine. I just wanted to make sure that he—okay, great. Thanks.” He ended the call and dropped his phone to his desktop. 

He had work to do, a lot of it in fact, but he stayed as he was, thinking of Luke Campbell. Melissa’s parents and sister had arrived in New York that morning, and he was now with them. They all still had a rough road ahead of them, but it was a little bit of good news among all the bad.

At least he hoped it was. It was entirely possible that Luke didn’t have a relationship with his extended family. Rafael didn’t doubt that Bill Campbell had done his best to keep his wife from having contact with her relatives.

Aside from his abuelita, who refused to be closed out of her daughter’s life, his mother had very little contact with friends or family members while his parents were together. In fact he could only think of one time during the years that his parents were married when he’d seen his Tia Claudia. And that hadn’t gone well at all.

_ Back pressed against the wall and legs stretched out across his bed — the quilt was old and nearly threadbare, one of the few items that had come from Cuba with his abuelita, but it was so tidily fixed that his father had commented more than once that he was ready for a career in the military or perhaps hotel housekeeping— Rafael was reading the section of  _ Bridge to Terabithia  _ that they would be discussing in English class the next day. _

_ Well, he was trying to read. The rapid fire Spanish coming from both his mother and his aunt carried easily through the paper thin walls, making it difficult to concentrate. His Tia Claudia had arrived yesterday from Miami, the first time she’d ever visited, and Rafael had been excited to meet her, but his mother had grown more and more agitated as the date approached. _

_ Now he understood why. _

_ All through dinner the night before, Tia Claudia had sent not so subtle looks of disdain at his father, and had made a tsking sound when he’d complained that dinner was overcooked. Rafael didn’t disagree with her assessment of his father’s behavior, but he knew better than to make his disdain apparent. Tia Claudia apparently hadn’t learned that lesson. _

_ The second they’d returned home from church that morning, his father off to his weekly card game, his aunt had started in on his mother. And now, hours later, their argument continued. _

_ Claudia wanted Lucia to leave, to take Rafael and come to Miami with her when she left in a few days. This had sent thread of panic through him. He didn’t think he’d miss his father at all, but what about abuelita? He was relieved when his mother refused the offer. _

_ But the relief was short lived as they continued to go back and forth, his aunt calling his father words abuelita said he was never supposed to say. He hated how the tight string of defensiveness wound through his chest, even as he knew his father was those things. _

“El te matara,”  _ Tia Claudia finally shouted forcefully.  _ He’ll kill you.

_ Suddenly it was completely silent, a stark and now unwelcome contrast to the shouting that had been taking place the last couple of hours. He found himself wanting it to start up again because if his mother was quiet now it could only mean one thing. She knew his aunt was right. _

“Mr. Barba.” Rafael jumped at Carmen’s knock and his eyes flew open. “Sorry to interrupt, but you need to get going if you’re going to be on time for the Campbell arraignment.”

“Right. Thanks, Carmen.”

She gave a short nod and pulled the door closed again.

Taking a deep breath, Rafael dropped his feet to the floor, stood, and grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair all in one fluid, well-practiced motion. It was time to go to work.


	5. Chapter 5

“Okay, so, run it through,” Rafael instructed, pouring coffee into a white porcelain mug. He added a dash of cream and then turned to face Sonny, Liv, and Rollins ,who were perched on various pieces of his office furniture.

“It’s all pretty straight forward,” Amanda began. “Campbell refused to talk when we brought him in, but he still had her blood on his clothes. Not a lot, but enough to get some samples.”

“Neighbors heard him screaming at her and then some loud thuds,” Olivia added.

“And none of them bothered to call the police?” Barba grumbled, moving around his desk to take a seat, leaning back in his chair with his mug in both hands.

“They claim it was nothing new and that they didn’t want to get involved.”

“Great citizens all.”

“Not sure the time of the 9-1-1 call would have made much difference. Prelim ME’s report says she died from blunt force trauma to the head, which we figured, given the state of the coffee table,” Sonny supplied. “And then we have Luke’s statement, but I’m not entirely sure he’s up for the stand.”

“He’ll have to be.” Rafael refused to look at Sonny. He could feel his husband’s eyes on him, knew the concern that would be in them and he didn’t want to deal with it now.

“Not if you offer a deal.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe to save her family the pain of a trial? To prevent her son from going through even more trauma? So you don’t have to—”

“Okay, I get it.” Barba held up a hand. “But this bastard doesn’t deserve a deal.”

“But what about—”

“I said, I’m not doing it.”

“Okay,” Olivia jumped in, looking back and forth between them, and then finally resting her gaze on Rafael. “We’ll get you all the lab reports when they come in and the ME’s office should have their finalized report today or tomorrow.”  

“I’m actually going to go by the ME’s office and talk to Melinda today.” Rafael glanced at his watch. “I should get over there now, I have court this afternoon.”

“Why? You have the report and—”

“I know I have the damn report,” Barba cut Sonny off again. “But I’d like to go speak with Melinda directly if that’s okay with you.”

“Well, I’m going with you,” Sonny insisted.

Rafael rolled his eyes, but didn’t protest.

“Carisi, Rollins, give us a minute, would you?” Liv asked, and her two detectives headed for the door, although Sonny seemed hesitant to do so. “You okay?” Olivia asked once they were gone.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Rafael made it a point to shuffle papers and files around on his desk, not looking up.

“You’re kidding me, right?” She moved from the table in the center of the room to sit across from him at his desk. “I know this can’t be easy on you.”

“Look, Liv, I’m getting enough of this from Sonny. I don’t need it from you, too.”

“There are worse things in the world than having people care about you, you know?”

“There are?” He raised an eyebrow at her, but the corner of his mouth turned up just a bit. She just stared at him and finally, he sighed. “I’m fine, okay? This isn’t my first DV case and it won’t be my last. If I can’t handle it, what am I even doing here?”

“You know you’re allowed to be human and a prosecutor, right? You can do your job well even if it hits a nerve. I know that more than anyone.”

“I’m fine,” he repeated.

“Okay.” She held up her hands in surrender. “Just know that I’m here for you if you decide that you’re not.”

* * *

“Why are you doing this?” Sonny asked as they made their way down the concrete hallways of the medical examiner’s office. 

Rafael was impressed. Sonny had managed to make it the twenty minute drive from One Hogan Place without bringing up the case at all. Instead, he chatted casually about which dessert he was planning on making for dinner at his parents’ house that weekend and wondering if Gina was going to bring her new boyfriend.

But of course now that they’d arrived, his concern had returned.

“Because it’s my job?”

“No, it’s not.”

Rafael had never admitted it, but Sonny knew he was uncomfortable around dead bodies. The few times he’d been to a crime scene or joined them at the morgue, Sonny had clocked his discomfort. He avoided it unless absolutely necessary, which is why he wasn’t sure why he was doing this now.

“Sonny, we’re here. I’m going to talk to Melinda. You can either help me with the case or wait in the car.” He didn’t give Sonny a chance to respond, shoving open the door to the autopsy suite.

Melissa Campbell’s pale body was displayed on the shiny metal table. The bruising on her neck and face were even more prominent now that her skin had gone stark white.

“Who are you?” Barba asked the young ME’s assistant who was sewing up the Y incision in her chest.

“Hey, Cecile, we’re looking for Dr. Warner.” Sonny said amiably, when she looked startled by Rafael’s abrupt tone. “We want to talk to her about Melissa Campbell.”

“She’s working on another autopsy, but I can walk you through th—”

“I prefer to speak with Melinda. Go get her, please.” Despite his polite words, there was nothing mannerly about the request.

“Like I said, she’s—”

“As far as I know that dead body isn’t going anywhere, so go get her. Now.”

“Raf,” Sonny admonished when Cecile left, head down, to go find Melinda.

“What?”

Sonny opened his mouth to speak, but then just sighed. “Nothing.”

They waited in silence, Rafael roaming the room, looking everywhere except at the body on the table. Sonny would find it humorous how obvious he was if he wasn’t too busy being concerned.

“Mr. Barba,” Melinda came into the room, drying her hands on a blue sterile towel. “I understand that you wanted to see me. Immediately.”

“I read the preliminary report on Melissa Campbell, but I was hoping you could give me more.”

Melinda glanced at Sonny who just shrugged, before turning back to Rafael. “Well, I haven’t had a chance to type up my findings yet, but—”

“Anything would be helpful. Obviously she hit her head on the coffee table, but any two bit defense lawyer could sell that as an accident. I need intent.”

“Well, I may be able to help you.” She grabbed a clipboard from a holder on the wall. “There were fresh bruises on her neck, handprints, newer than the ones she had when you first arrested Bill Campbell. Additionally, her skull was fractured at least three times.”

“That means that…” Sonny trailed off.

“I believe that he held her by the neck and repeatedly bashed her head into the corner of the coffee table.”

Rafael nodded, suddenly finding it difficult to get air into his lungs. “Thanks, Melinda,” he managed to force out before hurrying to the door.

“He okay?” She asked Sonny.

“Yeah, thanks, Dr. Warner.”

Rafael didn’t stop until he was outside, finally able to breathe in gulps of air that finally had a hint of fall in it. The ME’s office was always so stuffy, overwarm and full of strange smells. He hated it.

He was able to relish having air in his lungs for thirty seconds before Sonny caught up with him. He held up a hand when Sonny stepped up beside him. “Please don’t ask me if I’m okay.”

“Wasn’t going to.”

Rafael huffed a small, mirthless laugh. “Okay.”

They stood there for a moment on the sidewalk, silent. 

“He held her by the neck and beat her head into the corner of the coffee table,” Rafael said finally.

“I know,” Sonny’s response was only above a whisper.

“That could’ve been…”

“I know,” Sonny said again, taking Rafael by the hand and leading him down the block to where he’d parked the car. “Let’s get you back downtown. You’ve got court. It’ll do you good to rip apart some prick on the stand.”

Rafael smiled and gave Sonny’s hand a squeeze. “You know me so well.”     

* * *

The ache in his neck had slowly made its way up to the base of his skull despite the handful of Excedrin he’d downed, but Rafael refused to give into it. Instead he moved his head back and forth, doing his best to stretch out his neck muscles as he kept his eyes on the casefile in front of him. 

Melinda had finally come through with her final report, as had the lab, and he was making notes, working through the details, trying to be as objective as possible. Thankfully, the scientific and medical jargon made it significantly easier to do so.

He had countless other cases that he should be working on, ones that would go to trial much sooner than this one, but he felt compelled to work on it, to cover all ground, while it was fresh. He owed it to Melissa Campbell to get this right.

Rafael wondered, not for the first time since this case had begun, if he should call his mother. He’d been putting it off, knowing for certain that was what would break him. He was able to put up a facade for everyone, even Sonny, but not his mother.

All through his life, when he was trying to be strong, the second his mother would hit him with that soothing, “What’s the matter, Rafi?” he’d almost immediately burst into tears, unable to keep it in any longer.

So, for that reason, he’d continue to avoid her. The guilt bubbled up, even as he thought about it, knowing that she’d wonder why he was dodging her, but it was what he had to do to keep from—

“Hope you’re hungry!” Sonny called as he pushed open their apartment door, a plastic bag in his hand.

Rafael checked his watch. He hadn’t eaten. He hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten, he’d been so engrossed in his work, but now, just at the idea of food, his stomach growled.

Sonny moved about, dropping the bag on the coffee table, kicking off his shoes, and peeling off his suit jacket before pecking Rafael on the lips and settling onto the couch next to him. “I got your favorite.”

“Floridita?” Rafael eyed the bag more carefully as Sonny pulled out the foil-wrapped cubanos. He was embarrassed at the way his mouth watered when he unwrapped his sandwich. “I can’t believe you went all the way to Harlem just for these.”

Sonny shrugged. “We caught a case up that way. It was no big deal.”

He didn’t quite believe him, but instead of pressing it further he took his first bite and almost moaned at the flavor.

Sonny grinned at him, knowing that it was worth it to listen to Rollins gripe about them having to drive forty-five blocks in the wrong direction. “I got extras so you can take one to work for lunch tomorrow.”

“I’d marry you if I hadn’t already.”

Pleased, Sonny grabbed the remote and leaned back into the couch, his own sandwich still wrapped on the coffee table.

“Oh, come on, I can’t get caught up in this right now,” Rafael complained when Sonny selected a show. “I’ve got work to do.”

“You made me turn it off in the middle of bread week! I want to see the end.”

“Well, I’m sorry. I figured since I couldn’t hear Paul Hollywood over your snoring that you were no longer watching.” Rafael wiped his hands on a paper napkin, his sandwich already gone. He contemplated eating his extra one now instead of saving it for lunch, but decided against it.

“Okay, so maybe that’s fair, but I still want to finish it. Besides, it’s late and you’ve worked hard enough today.” Sonny patted his chest and it was almost without thinking that Rafael snuggled against him, Sonny’s arm around his shoulders.

“Fine,” he relented as he got settled, even though it wasn’t that tough of a decision. “But if you fall asleep this time I’m finishing without you.”

“Yeah, fine,” Sonny huffed.

And for the first time in days, Rafael was able to turn it off. No flashbacks, no ghosts of fears that had haunted him throughout his childhood, just a mindless TV show and the sound of his husband’s heartbeat in his ear.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to PBB for listening to me whine about this.

When a case was really getting to Sonny, he had nightmares, tossing and turning and crying out until Rafael shook him awake with murmured reassurances. When Rafael was plagued by his thoughts, he just didn’t sleep at all. 

That had been the case for the last couple of weeks, ever since prep for the Campbell trial had really ramped up. He would stay in the office until all hours of the night, and when he finally did make his way home, he paced the apartment floors, scribbling lines for his opening argument, practicing them, and then crossing them out again, grumbling.

He’d barely slowed down to even enjoy Thanksgiving the week before, on his phone most of the time as they made their rounds between Staten Island, the Bronx, and eventually Rollins’ apartment downtown. And when they’d finally returned home after a long day of food, booze, and people, instead of collapsing into bed with Sonny, Rafael stayed up late into the night, working.

Sonny actually couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Rafael with his eyes closed, peacefully resting, so when he awoke around 3am to find the other half of the bed empty, he couldn’t say he was all that surprised. But there was something off.

The traffic noise, usually just a background murmur this far up, was much louder, and a cold draft of late November air blew through their open bedroom door. He thought of getting his gun from the safe in the closet, but decided against it before tip toeing out into the hallway.

He saw Rafael before Rafael saw him and Sonny paused, taking in the sight of his husband. He was sitting on the sill of the open kitchen window with only the city lights illuminating him. Sonny smirked when he saw the glow of the tip of a cigarette followed a second later by a wisp of smoke.

Rafael thought his occasional cigarette was a secret, even from Sonny, but Sonny knew that he kept his emergency pack in the box of Raisin Bran in the top left cupboard, just because he knew Sonny would never touch it.

He only pulled out the pack every six months or so, when things were incredibly stressful, and he only ever had one, so Sonny let him have his secret.

Clearing his throat, he stepped forward. “Raf?”

Rafael jumped, tossing the cigarette out onto the fire escape where it fell through the metal bars—Sonny hoped there was no one down below—and he waved his hand around quickly in the air, trying to disperse the smoke.

Sonny bit back a chuckle at how obvious he was. “It’s freezing. Why do you have the window open?”

“I just...needed some air.”

Sonny could tell by the weight of the words that there was truth in them. It had been more than a nicotine fix that had Rafael sitting in the frigid air, probably catching a cold that was the last thing he needed.

“I’ll close it,” he said when he realized that Sonny had his arms crossed tightly over his bare chest, his hands rubbing his arms. “I’m sorry for waking you up.” The window creaked in its track as he slid it back into place, flipping the latch closed.

“Don’t worry about it. Is everything okay?”

Rafael would be prepping Luke for his testimony today, and Sonny knew that he had that task to thank for his husband’s sleeplessness.

“Fine. I was just getting some work done and just needed a break.”

Sonny nodded, accepting the answer even though he knew it wasn’t the whole truth. Instead, he moved toward the cabinet, pulling out a pan before going to the refrigerator and taking out a carton of eggs. “Want some breakfast?”

“It’s three in the morning.”

“So? You’re not going back to bed are you?”

“No.”

“Well, then,” Sonny shrugged, turning on the burner, “it’s breakfast time then.”

“Just because I’m not going back to sleep, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”

Sonny responded by cracking two eggs into the pan. “Can you make the toast?”

Rafael sighed, coming to terms with the fact that he wasn’t going to win this one, and pulled a loaf of bread from the bread box.

And so they ate fried eggs—over medium for Rafael and over easy for Sonny—and toast at their little table at three thirty in the morning. They chatted over their meal and even beyond, Sonny carefully steering the conversation anywhere besides the Campbell case, and he even made a pot of coffee even though he often chastised Rafael for his caffeine intake. He was going to need it today.

Rafael knew that Sonny was working hard to distract him, but didn’t fight it. It was kind of nice to turn it all off for a minute and enjoy a nice meal with his husband, even if it was in the predawn hours, and besides there were worse things than someone who cared about you trying to keep your mind off of something unpleasant.

Finally, the sun began to rise, bringing a soft light into the kitchen that had remained mostly dark throughout their meal, and Sonny rose from the table to refill Rafael’s coffee mug.

“Do you want me to come by for the prep?” For as much as he wanted to avoid the topic, time continued to creep forward, leading Rafael toward the inevitable. Maybe it would help to have someone by his side. “Unless we catch something urgent, I could probably get away for an hour or so.”

Rafael shook his head, standing to put his plate in the sink and take the now full mug from Sonny. “No, I’ll be okay. Really,” he added when Sonny looked less than certain. “Thank you for the breakfast, and the coffee.” He rose up on his toes to kiss Sonny gently. “I’ve gotta shower.”

He carried his mug with him toward the bathroom and Sonny rolled his eyes. “Did you not learn your lesson?”

The last time Rafael had taken his coffee into the shower he’d dropped the mug, shattering it and cutting his foot open.

“I’ll be careful.”

“You better because I’m not bandaging you up this time. You’re on your own.”

“So if I bleed out it’s your fault.”

“Yes, of course, my fault. Not your fault for taking a frickin’ ceramic mug into the shower.”

“Glad we agree.” Rafael gave him no chance to continue to argue, shutting the bathroom door behind him.

* * *

Rafael sat in the jury box in the empty courtroom, feet propped up on the railing, giving off an air of relaxation that he did not at all feel. The end of his gold pen rested against his mouth as he read over the list of questions he’d written on his legal pad, some scratched out and others scribbled in the margins. 

Some of the questions gave him pause, but he knew D’Angelo wouldn’t pull any punches and it was up to Rafael to prepare Luke to the best of his ability. It would be even worse for the kid to get ambushed on the stand by defense counsel.

The door at the back of the room swung open and Maggie Foster, Melissa Campbell’s sister, stepped inside, looking like she was uncertain that she was in the right place. She spotted Barba and looked a touch relieved, waving a hand as Luke followed her into the room.

The first time he’d met Maggie, it had been a bit of a shock. Even though there had been two years between them in age, she looked so much like her sister that it was eerie. Rafael had found himself wondering if their parents found it all difficult to look at their youngest daughter, now that their oldest had been taken from them.

He dropped his feet from the railing and stepped down out of the jury box to meet them at the front of the courtroom. “Hey, Luke. Maggie.”

“Mr. Barba.”

Rafael had spoken with Melissa’s family a few times over the last few months, keeping them abreast of what was happening with the case — motion outcomes, new trial dates, etc… — so they’d come to know each other somewhat. Normally Carmen dealt with updating families for him, but all of the ones pertaining to this case he’d delivered himself.

“Rafael, please. I’m glad the two of you could make it.”

Luke had gone to stay with the Fosters in Wisconsin, but the whole family was back for the trial. Only Maggie and Luke would be testifying and Rafael had advised that Melissa’s parents not join them for prep. It would only make the process more stressful for everyone.

“Should we just get to it?” he asked, feeling the anxiety rolling off of both of them.

“Sure,” Maggie nodded, looking at Luke who still hadn’t said a word. He seemed even more reserved than he had been when Rafael had last seen him months ago. “Which of us should go first?”

They should probably start with Maggie, to show Luke the process and to allow him to relax, but selfishly, Rafael wanted to get his part over with.

“Luke? You okay with starting us off?” He forced levity into his tone.

“Okay,” Luke responded with uncertainty.

“Great, so you’ll just go up in this seat here.” Rafael showed him around to the witness stand and felt a pang in his chest when he saw just how small he looked sitting up there. He pushed it away. “Now, Luke, when you first get on the stand the court officer will make you promise to tell the truth and that’s what we all want, okay? Just the truth.”

They started off slowly, with Rafael asking about previous times Luke had seen his father be violent with his mother, instances where he’d been violent with Luke himself, finally circling around to the day the boy had called 9-1-1, when Sonny and Rollins had first caught the case.

It was difficult, hearing his first hand account. Rafael knew more than anyone what it was like to be a young boy, watching helplessly as he father beat his mother. What it was like to have the police show up at your door, feeling both relieved and terrified.

_ Even from this far up, the red and blue lights bounced off of the chipped white paint of Rafael’s bedroom walls. Even before the sound of a loud fist beating on their flimsy apartment door made its way down the hall, he knew they were coming here. _

_ They were always coming here. _

_ Not that it did any good. _

_ It always went the same way. His father would order his mother into the bedroom, while he answered the door, smiling sheepishly at either officers Davis and Thompson, or Ramirez and Franklin, depending on what day the week it was, and apologizing for getting too involved in the baseball or football game, depending on what time of year it was. _

_ They always just told him to keep it down, talking shit on the Jets or the Mets for a few minutes, before they returned to their patrol. They never asked about his mother, or even Rafael, who they knew was in the apartment. _

_ It took a long time, and several NYPD visits, before Rafael realized it wasn’t necessarily because they believed his father, it was that they didn’t care enough about what he was doing to give themselves the added work of actually doing something about it. _

“I’m sorry.” Maggie stood up abruptly, knocking Rafael out of the memory. “Is it okay if I—if I wait out in the hall?”

“Of course,” Rafael nodded. He could only blame his own preoccupation for not having the foresight to know that listening to Luke would probably be upsetting for her. He doubted they’d talked much about the details of Melissa’s abuse around the dinner table, so she was most likely hearing Luke’s account for the first time.

Maggie thanked him, apologizing one more time and wiping tears from her cheeks as she made her way back down the center aisle and out into the hallway. 

“I made her sad,” Luke said quietly, watching as the door closed behind his aunt.

“No,” Rafael assured him softly. “You didn’t.”

“I make everyone sad.” Luke looked at his hands where they twisted in his lap. “Or mad. I made my dad mad, that’s why he...why he...” He couldn’t seem to get through it, his voice shaky and choked with tears.

Rafael stepped closer to the witness stand, resting his forearms on the rail. “No,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “I know it’s easy to think that, trust me, but you didn’t do anything wrong. Okay?”

Luke nodded, but it seemed more out of an effort to please Rafael than actual belief.

“Look, I...I’ve been where you are.”

The boy’s eyes widened and he stared at Rafael more intently.

“Well, not exactly where you are, but I know what it’s like to have a father like yours. And let me tell you, you can be on your best behavior, get the best grades, get into the best schools, have a successful career, and none of it makes a difference. Nothing you do changes it because it has nothing to do with you. Men like that, there’s something inside of them that—”

He stopped, realizing that this perhaps wasn’t the best discourse, given his audience. Luckily, though his eyes were still watery and his cheeks still red, Luke looked more perplexed by him than anything. He’d take perplexed. 

“Let’s take a break, huh?” He needed it as much or more than Luke did. “You can go see your aunt. There’s a vending machine at the end of the hall. Soda’s for both of you on me.” He handed Luke a couple of bills from his pocket and helped him down off of the witness stand.

Halfway down the aisle of the courtroom, Luke turned. “Want anything, Mr. Barba?”

“No, “ Rafael waved him off. “Thank you, I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t. Not at all.  


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one and the next one are a little rough. Sorry in advance.

A loud crash sounded on the other side of the door as Sonny turned his key in the lock, followed by an audible “Son of a bitch,” that was distinctly Rafael. 

“Are you okay?” He hurried into the apartment, greeted by the sight of his husband surrounded by several pieces of dark stained wood and various screws, nails, and brackets. The beginnings of a bookcase stood—though he’d use the word loosely—in front of him, leaning significantly to one side.

The concern turned to bafflement. “What are you doing?”

“I’m putting this fucking bookshelf together since you won’t ever do it. The box has been sitting here for months and it’s driving me crazy.” He hadn’t even bothered to change when he’d arrived home, the sleeves of his blue checked shirt rolled up to his elbows.

“But you don’t—”

Rafael looked up at him defiantly. “I don’t what?”

Almost as if to mock him, the little bit of the shelf that had been constructed fell over, joining the haphazard pile of wood.

Sonny knew better than to laugh, even though the picture before him was so pitiful that it was funny. “I’m sorry I haven’t gotten to this, but I’ll do it.”

“Tonight? Because if this pile is just going to sit here in the middle of the floor for weeks then I’ll just—”

“Tonight. Right now,” Sonny assured him. “Well, after I change outta my suit.”

“You have five minutes or I’m setting it on fire.”

Sonny sighed once he was in their bedroom, digging through the dresser drawers for a pair of sweatpants and grabbing a t-shirt from the closet. He’d known that prepping Luke for trial was going to be hard on Rafael, but not so much so that he’d attempt manual labor to get his mind off of it.

He should have been there. Even though Rafael had told him that he didn’t need him, Sonny should have known better. He wasn’t entirely sure what he could have done to change the situation, but at least he would know what he was up against now.

When he returned to the living room, Rafael was attempting to put back together the piece that had fallen over. Sonny was pretty sure this was the first time in all the years they’d known each other that he’d seen Rafael with a screwdriver in his hand.

Sonny made a mental note to hide his tool kit moving forward to prevent any future incidents such as this one.   

“Here, I got it.” Sonny took the tool from him and easily turned the screw.

“You should let me help,” Rafael said, not moving. “It’s clearly a job for two.”

Yes, that’s the problem, Sonny thought sarcastically, but didn’t say it. “Sure. It will go faster that way.”

Rafael watched, perched on the arm of the couch, arms crossed, as Sonny organized the pieces and parts into piles, checking the paper directions to make sure that everything was accounted for.

Normally Rafael would get in a dig or two about him being such a goody goody, following the rules exactly, but he stayed silent this time.

The silence continued as the bookshelf began to take shape, the only exception when Sonny asked Rafael to hold a piece in place or pass him a tool. Normally their silences, rare as they were, were comfortable, both of them reading or Rafael working while Sonny cooked. But this was different.

Sonny could feel the tension radiating off of Rafael in waves, and he did his best to provide the distraction that he knew his husband was looking for, but when they were about halfway finished, he looked over at him. “So…”

Rafael quirked an eyebrow at him. “So?”

“How, um...how did it go today?”

“Sonny.” It was said on an exhausted sigh, but Sonny heard the warning in it.

“I know, Raf, I know, but—but I really think you should talk about it. It’s not healthy to keep your feelings bottled up.”

“That’s what you’re not getting. I don’t have feelings. I can’t have feelings. Not about this. As long as I’m trying this case I  _ have _ to feel nothing.”

“But Dr. Sawyer says—”

“I don’t give a fuck what Dr. Sawyer says,” Rafael snapped.  “When I collapse on the floor of my office, unable to breathe, then you can hit me with your psychobabble. Until then just stay out of it.”

The hurt on Sonny’s face had him filling immediately with remorse, but instead of apologizing he tossed down the board he was holding and strode into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.   

* * *

An hour later, Sonny eased open the bedroom door. It was the last place he wanted to be at the moment. In fact, while he finished up the bookshelf he’d found himself wishing for a call that they’d caught a case. But no such call had come, and he’d only been left with the guilt of wishing harm on someone just so he didn’t have to have to face his husband. 

He supposed he could have just gone to sleep on the couch and avoided it altogether, but in all the times that he and Rafael had fought, neither of them had ever spent the night on the couch and he wasn’t about to make tonight the first time.

The only light in the room came from the lamp on Rafael’s bedside table, shining over the casefile that was spread over his lap. Rafael was frowning at the file, chewing on the end of his gold pen, but he looked up when Sonny walked in and the concentration on his face quickly turned to contrition.

“Shelf’s done,” Sonny said solemnly, pulling back the covers on his side of the bed.

“Sonny, I—”

“It’s fine.” Sonny pecked him on the cheek and then rolled over, his back to Rafael. “Good night.”

Rafael sighed and Sonny heard him shuffling around, the file and pen landing on the nightstand, and then there was a hand on his shoulder, warm and familiar.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Sonny rolled so that he was on his back and could see him. Rafael, propped up on his elbow, did look sorry. “I’m worried that you did mean it. And it doesn’t make any sense. You’re the one who talked me into seeing Dr. Sawyer and now it’s psychobabble? She’s really been helping me.”

"I know she is. And I’m so proud of you for going. I just—it’s different, okay?”

“I don’t see how.”

“Of course you don’t.”

Sonny’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You grew up with the friggin’ Cleavers. This stuff that’s happened to you, it’s new, fresh. There’s still time to work on it, to make it better. But me, it’s there, ingrained. The breaks, they’re permanent, there’s no fixing them. So my only choice is to push it down, to try not to think about it, or it could swallow me.”

“Raf.” Sonny placed his hand over Rafael’s that still rested on his shoulder.

“See? I don’t want that, your pity. I just want to do my job and put this asshole in jail and move on.”

“And what about the next one?”

“I’ll worry about that when it comes.”

“That’s no way to live.”

“What choice do I have?” The way his voice shook had Sonny’s heart breaking.

“You do have a choice.” He slid up in the bed, wrapping an arm around Rafael and pulling him close until his head rested on his chest. “Everything is fixable. I promise you.”

Rafael shook his head the best he could, the soft cotton of Sonny’s t-shirt catching in the stubble on his cheek. “Not me.”

Sonny swallowed past the lump in his throat. Rafael needed him to be strong now, not blubbering like a baby. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re broken. Maybe you’ve got some cracks and scars, but you’re such a good man, Raf. You came from an impossible situation and managed to make something of yourself and you help so many people.”

“I couldn’t help Melissa Campbell. I couldn’t help my...my mother.” 

Sonny felt tears drip onto his shirt and soak through the cotton and he tightened his arm around Rafael, running his other hand soothingly through his hair.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think you should offer Campbell a deal.”

“I can’t. I have to—”

“Just hear me out,” Sonny interrupted. “If you offer Campbell a deal, Luke doesn’t have to testify, he can live with his aunt and begin the long process of healing. And then you can move on too. And maybe…” He hesitated a moment, taking a deep breath. “And then maybe you can talk to someone and start working through some of this. That way the next time a case like this lands on our doorstep, it won’t do this to you.”

Sonny braced himself for Rafael’s reaction, but his husband remained silent and still. He wondered for a moment if he’d fallen asleep.

But finally, after a few moments, came Rafael’s quiet and resigned, “Okay.”

* * *

His head throbbed and he leaned forward, elbows on his desk, using his fingers to massage his temples. It did nothing to ease the never-ending stabs of pain just above his eyes, so Rafael gave up the battle and reached into his right side drawer for the bottle of ibuprofen he kept there. There were only two pills left and today was going to take a hell of a lot more than that.

“Carmen!”

She walked in, silently placed a full bottle of Advil on his desk, and walked back out.

He swore sometimes she was some sort of supernatural creature, able to read his thoughts and anticipate his needs, but as usual, instead of questioning it he only felt gratitude.

He washed down a handful of the pills with cold coffee. How many he wasn’t entirely certain, but the ulcer it was likely to give him someday was a problem to worry about in the future.

Right now, he had to get through this meeting with Campbell and his lawyer.

He knew deep down that the deal was the best decision. As much as it pained him to make the offer, it would save Melissa Campbell’s family from a long, drawn out trial, and, more importantly, would guarantee that Bill Campbell went to prison.

The case he had was solid, but you never knew for certain which way a jury would go. He’d never be able to live with himself if the man walked. So, yes, the deal was the best thing for everyone.

Almost as if she knew that the Advil hadn’t had time to kick in yet, Carmen tapped lightly on his door. “You better get going if you want to make your meeting on time.”

Since the first thing he’d done after making bail was commit murder, Rafael had been able to get the judge to remand Bill Campbell this time around, so he’d have to make the trip up to Rikers. It would be worth the travel if it could put an end to all of this.

“Aw, that’s okay. We can use the siren if we need to.” Sonny grinned from behind Carmen in the doorway.

“What are you doing here?” Rafael asked, shrugging on his black suit jacket, unable to hide the fact that he was happy to see him.

“Slow day at the precinct. Lieu said I could drive you up to Rikers, save ya an exorbitant Lyft charge that the DA’s office probably wouldn’t reimburse.”

He was right. Rafael had learned that the hard way.

“Well, if you want to be my chauffeur, who am I to stop you?”

Early on in their relationship he would have been angry at how much having Sonny there calmed him, but now he was just thankful. His husband next to him in the driver’s seat, humming along to the radio and cursing bad drivers, was reassuring.

He’d even brought him a coffee and a danish. Though even the thought of the latter had Rafael’s stomach turning, he’d accepted the coffee gratefully, hoping the additional caffeine would help his head that continued to ache just enough to be a nuisance.

Sonny had been sipping from his own paper cup, but handed it over when he saw that Rafael’s was empty.

Rafael braced himself for the assault of a thousand packets of sugar, but surprisingly found the coffee to be acceptable. Good even.

“Figured you’d need two, so I made both your way,” Sonny said like it was no big deal and Rafael fell in love with him all over again.

“Thanks.” It wasn’t enough, there would never be enough words to express his gratitude for Sonny, steadfast and loving even when Rafael gave him every reason not to be.

“Anytime.” Sonny reached over and squeezed his hand, then pointed at their exit. “Look at that, didn’t even have to use the sirens.”

Once they’d made it through the gate and Sonny had parked, Rafael looked over at him. “I’m really grateful that you came with me, but I need to do this alone.”

“Are you sure? Because I can—”

“I’m sure.”

Sonny looked uncertain, but nodded. “Okay, I’ll be right here.”

Rafael leaned across the center console, kissing him lightly. “Thank you.”

He climbed down out of the Interceptor and made his way over to the visitors’ entrance. Straightening his shoulders and taking a deep breath, he reached out and pressed the buzzer that would gain him entry.  


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay on this chapter. Life has been challenging the last month or so. Thanks for sticking this out with me! <3

The small, dingy room was unfortunately all too familiar to Rafael. Rikers boasted a few identical concrete meeting rooms, but he’d been in all of them more times than he liked. And this visit promised to be even more unpleasant than all of the others.

Campbell was already there, seated at the metal table in his orange jumpsuit next to D’Angelo. He looked rougher than the last time Rafael had seen him and he was happy to know that the time behind bars was already taking its toll on him. If Rafael had anything to say about it, his stay was just beginning.

“Gentlemen,” Rafael greeted, a bitter taste filling his mouth at the lie as he sat across from them.

“Let’s skip the small talk.” D’Angelo leaned back in his chair, taking on an air of arrogance. “I assume you’re here to offer a deal, so get to it.”

Rafael’s jaw flexed as his teeth clenched with the physical effort of biting back a cutting remark. He took a breath, calming himself. “Man one. Twenty-five years.”

“What?” Campbell scoffed and D’Angelo placed an hand on his shoulder. Surprisingly, he shut up.

“You made me come all the up here for that?” D’Angelo shook his head. “You’ve gotta do better.”

“No, I don’t gotta. We’ve got your client fleeing from the crime scene, his wife’s blood all over his clothes, his handprints around her neck, a history of domestic violence.” Rafael leaned forward, tapping a fingertip on the table as he emphasized each point before turning to focus on Campbell.. “There’s not a jury in the world that won’t convict you.”

This got a smirk from the man. “If you’re so sure of that, what are you doing here?”

“Because, unlike you, I’m trying to save your son from having to testify about what he witnessed.”

Campbell scoffed again and Rafael wanted to throttle him. “That little pussy? He’ll never testify against me.”

_Even with the volume of his walkman turned up to its fullest, the headphones fixed tightly over his ears, Rafael could hear his father’s voice through the thin walls of their apartment. It was his fault this time. It seemed to be more and more his fault lately._

_His father had wanted him to try out for the baseball team, but his mother had let him skip it, signing his permission slip for debate club instead. Rafael’s father was not happy._

_“You baby him too much. It’s no wonder he’s becoming such a little pussy! He’s a man he should be outside, playing sports, not locked in his room reading books.”_

_“He’s still just a boy,” Lucia argued back, though not nearly as loudly or as forcefully. “And he’s so smart.”_

_Rafael didn’t feel smart at the moment. The words written on the paper in front of him, an essay that wasn’t due for another week, blurred together, and he had a fear that he had suddenly forgotten how to read._

_It certainly wasn’t his handwriting that was the problem. It was just neat and precise enough that it gave his father another excuse to call him a sissy._

_“When he gets his ass kicked again, I don’t want either of you to come crying to me.”_

_Rafael cringed at that, remembering the day that Bobby Cantalli had been waiting for him after school. Eddie had detention, again, and Rafael was alone. Bobby took advantage, bloodying his nose and cracking his lip open._

_He’d cried as his mother helped clean him up and that night at the dinner table, his father had only looked at him in disgust._

Rafael cleared his throat. “Your son is stronger than you know.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“I guess we will.” Rafael stood, his metal chair sliding against the concrete.

“So that’s it?” D’Angelo asked. “Man one or nothing? I thought we were here to negotiate, Barba.”

“We’re not.” With that he left the room, hurrying down the hallway and back to Sonny.

* * *

Back outside, Rafael took a deep breath, schooling his features into a look of practiced calm before crossing the parking lot and climbing into the Interceptor next to Sonny.

Sonny, who had been scrolling through his phone, looked up in surprise. “That was fast. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Depends on how you look at it. We’re going to trial.”

Sonny made a disgusted noise. “I’m sorry, Raf.”

Shrugging in response, Rafael grabbed the seatbelt and clicked it into place. “It is what it is.”

With a nod, Sonny took the hint and started the engine. “Let’s get you back to the office.”

“Actually, can you take me home? My head is killing me. I’ll just tell Carmen I’m working from home the rest of the day.”

“Sure.” Maneuvering out of the parking space with one hand on the wheel, Sonny reached over and placed his other hand on the back of Rafael’s neck, massaging the tense muscles at the base of his skull.

Rafael closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of Sonny’s fingers on his neck. As much as he was in pain, he was almost thankful for it. The throbbing in his head gave him a convenient excuse to spend the ride in silence, avoiding all the questions he knew were running through his husband’s mind regarding his meeting with Campbell.

It was cowardly, he knew, and even selfish, to keep Sonny in the dark, but his nerves were still raw and his temper barely hung on by a thread. If allowed even one question, Sonny would hit him with a barrage, and it wouldn’t end well.

So they stayed that way for the remainder of the drive, Rafael with his eyes closed and Sonny driving silently. He even refrained from crooning along with the radio as he was often wont to do.

When they pulled to a stop in front of their apartment building, Rafael finally opened his eyes, finding Sonny’s blue ones looking over at him in concern.

“Want me to stay with you? Liv’ll probably let me use a few hours of PTO.”

“No, it’s fine.” Rafael waved a hand. “I’m probably just going to hole up in the dark anyway.”

“Okay.” Sonny didn’t sound wholly convinced. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.” Rafael leaned over and gave him a peck on the lips. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Rafael climbed down out of the SUV, causing a wave of nausea to roll through him at the movement. He gripped the car door, closing his eyes and trying to fight through it.

Before he knew it, Sonny was next to him on the sidewalk. “At least let me help you inside.”

“You…” Rafael swallowed, fighting the urge to throw up. He refused to toss his cookies on the street like some twenty-something who’d had too many mimosas at brunch. “You can’t park here,” he finished once it had passed.

“They’re not gonna tow an NYPD vehicle. Now, come on.” He wrapped an arm around Rafael and helped him toward their door.

It was embarrassing, to need help into his own home, but after a couple of steps, Rafael gave in, relaxing against Sonny’s side as they made their way into the building.

* * *

 

The room was dark when he opened his eyes, and it took Rafael a moment to get his bearings. He’d only meant to take a quick nap, something to get his migraine down to something more bearable so that he could get some work done.

But apparently he’d been out for a while, especially given the fact that Sonny snored softly beside him, the streetlights through the window hitting the pale skin of his chest where he’d shoved the duvet down in his sleep.

A check of his phone told him it was after 4am. He’d slept for over twelve hours. The good news was that his head no longer pounded, the bad news was that he was now wide awake.

Work sounded better than staring at the ceiling for two hours waiting on his alarm to go off, so he slid from the bed as carefully as he could, doing his best not to disturb Sonny, and then tiptoed from the room.

His briefcase was on the table where Sonny had left it when he’d helped him inside the previous afternoon, so he settled in there.

Working on the Campbell case was the last thing he wanted to do, but given that Campbell had turned down the deal, the trial would be starting in a few days.

He flipped to the page in his legal pad where he’d begun writing out his opening statement, but as he read over it all he could think of was Bill Campbell’s smug face across from him in the dingy room at Rikers.

It wasn’t the first time in his career that he’d come across a piece of shit abuser, but for some reason this one was getting to him more than most. If he thought about it long enough, he was sure to make the connection to the derision that Campbell held for his son.

Often in DV cases, the husbands still loved the children, or at the very least fought to keep them if for no other reason than to hurt their wives. But not Bill Campbell. It seemed that he only felt disgust for his only child.

_That little pussy? He’ll never testify against me._

The words rang through his ears and he stood abruptly from the table, moving to the counter to start making a pot of coffee. For once in his life he didn’t need the caffeine, but it proved a handy distraction.

While the coffee brewed, he reached above the sink to the cupboard where they kept their mugs. He grabbed the one in front, sure it had some ridiculous sexual innuendo about lawyers, one of the many that Sonny just found hilarious, but the words blurred before his eyes and his hands shook.

He didn’t even realize the mug was slipping from his hands until it landed in the sink with a loud clang, the handle snapping off and skidding across the metal. Rafael stared at it for a moment, feeling something like satisfaction buzz through him.

He looked up at the other mugs in the cabinet. The stupid phrases mocked him. What he did was serious. Important. Sonny of all people should understand that. He was the only hope that the victims of men like Bill Campbell, like his father, had at seeing justice.

He wasn’t a joke.

He pulled one of the mugs down. This one said ‘Instant Lawyer. Just add coffee’ and it was perhaps the most accurate one Sonny had purchased, but still lifted it high, bringing it down into the edge of the sink, sending shards flying.

It felt good, so he did it again. And again. Over and over, shattering a mug collection that had taken Sonny years to curate, not even stopping when he felt the burn of cuts, and blood dripped down the sides of the mugs and into the sink.

He didn’t stop until there was a hand around his wrist, and that’s when he realized Sonny was there, begging him to stop.

“Raf! Rafael. You’re hurting yourself. Stop!”

He shook his head, looking up at Sonny, almost with unseeing eyes. Sonny’s hands were still wrapped around his wrist, rivulets of blood running down Rafael’s hand and dripping onto Sonny’s.

“I’m sorry. I—“ He shook his head, trying to clear it.

“What happened? What were you doing?” Sonny’s eyes looked panicked, but he still had the wherewithal to grab a dish towel and wrap it around Rafael’s hand.

“I don’t know. The one broke and then I just…”

“You’re really starting to scare me.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated then winced as the adrenaline began to wane and cuts on his hand began to burn like fire.

Sonny unwrapped the towel, dabbing away as much of the blood as he could to get a look at the cuts. “I don’t think you need stitches, but these are gonna hurt like a bitch for awhile.”

He led Rafael back toward the table. “Here, sit down. I’ll go get some bandages.”

Sonny started toward the hallway, and then turned back, concerned that Rafael may start destroying their kitchen again as soon as he left, but Rafael was slumped in the chair where Sonny had left him, staring at the floor. There was no fight left in him and that worried Sonny even more. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait on this. Hopefully I'm back in the swing of things and you all won't have to wait so long on the next one. <3

Reading over the passage written on his notepad for the third time, Rafael contemplated for a moment before scratching out the first three sentences with his gold pen. It was not an easy feat given the gauze that was wrapped around his right hand. 

He still wasn’t entirely sure what had come over him the morning before. There was no way he’d ever admit it to anyone, but it scared him a little bit to know that he was capable of losing control like that, of completely disassociating from himself.

And even when he’d tried to push it from his mind, to concentrate on work, the cumbersome bandage and the sting of his cuts were there to remind him.

Not to mention the fact that Sonny had been treating him like he could shatter or explode at any moment. If he wasn’t asking Rafael if he was okay or if he could get him anything, he was tiptoeing quietly around their apartment, doing his best not to disturb him.

Rafael hated it. He’d somehow managed to become the thing he hated. A terrorist in his own home. He hadn’t done it with fists or insults or intimidation, but he’d done it nonetheless. It made his stomach turn and bile rise in the back of his throat.

As much as he wasn’t looking forward to it, he was somewhat grateful that voir dire for the Campbell trial was starting the next day. He just wanted to get through it and then maybe, hopefully, things would go back to normal.

He was just beginning to cross out some more lines he’d written when there was a commotion in the outer office. There was a bit of back and forth and then Carmen’s voice raised enough that he could make it out.

“You can’t go in there right now, he’s—“

The door swung open, and Rita, dressed impeccably as always in a red suit and matching heels, strode into the room like she owned the place.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barba,” Carmen said from the doorway.

Rafael sighed. Even as formidable as Carmen was she couldn’t stop Rita when she had her mind set on something. “It’s okay, Carmen. Close the door, please.”

Carmen nodded and silently did as she was asked.

“What do you want, Rita? We don’t have any current cases that overlap.”

“You and I are going out for a drink.”

“I don’t have time for a drink. I have jury selection in the morning and I—“

“I love that you think you have a choice in the matter,” she interrupted, a smirk on her face. But the smugness faltered for just a second when she caught sight of his bandaged hand.

Realization dawned. “Sonny put you up to this.”

“So what if he did?”

“I know that his heart was in the right place, and yours would be if you had a heart.” Rita’s face remained passive, not even registering the insult. “But I don’t need this. What I need is to work.”

“Oh, come on, Rafael, you’ve been prepared for days. You’ve probably been sitting here, second guessing yourself, crossing everything out even though you know it’s exactly what you’re going to say.”

“That’s not true,” Rafael said, but the way he nudged his legal pad away from him by just a couple of inches gave him away.

Rita rolled her eyes. “I cancelled a client meeting for this, so I’m not taking no for an answer. Let’s go.” She clapped her hands in ‘chop-chop’ manner.

Rafael stared at her a moment, defiant and unmoving. It was more out of an innate disdain for being told what to do than anything else, but finally he decided that one drink was worth it to not have both Sonny and Rita on his case for the foreseeable future.

“Fine, but you’re paying.”

When she led the way to Forlini’s Rafael knew that this was definitely a pity mission. Normally she refused to go there—“Yeah, like I want to drink with a bunch of cops and prosecutors. Besides, it smells funny.”— so Sonny must have really painted a pathetic picture.

“So what’s going on there?” Rita asked, looking at his hand, once they were seated at the far end of the bar, a martini in front of her.

“I broke a mug.” Rafael concentrated heavily on taking a sip of his scotch to avoid looking at her.

“Or seven,” she countered.

“Well, if you already knew then why did you ask?” Rafael bit back..

She shrugged. “To see if you’d tell me the truth.”

They were quiet a moment, a rarity for both of them, especially when they were together, but finally Rita spoke again. “Look, I know you’re expecting me to give you a long speech about how it’s the job and that you can’t let it get to you, that you need to just turn it off and do what needs to be done.

“And if this were any other case maybe I would be saying just that, but I know what this is to you, what it brings up for you. I’ll never forget the look on your face back in college when you told me about what he’d done to you and your mother.

“But Rafael,” she laid a hand on his shoulder and then paused. “Now, I’m only going to say this once and I’ll never admit that I did, but you are one of the strongest people I have ever met and certainly the best damn lawyer, besides myself, of course.”

Rafael couldn’t help the small huff of laughter that escaped him. Even in moments of sincerity, Rita was Rita.

“I know the rage you have for this man, for your father still, and that’s good,” she continued. “Use it to nail his ass. But then you’ve got to let it go. If you continue to let it eat at you, to hurt yourself physically and emotionally, to jeopardize your marriage, you’re letting them win. And the Rafael Barba I know would never let anyone win, especially piece of shit men who don’t deserve it.”

Finished saying her piece, she removed her hand and turned back to the bar, sipping from her martini. For all the world she looked like they’d just been discussing the weather or the latest celebrity gossip, not Rafael’s impending self implosion.

He’d never admit it, but he envied her ability to appear unaffected. He had the skill, of course, but it paled in comparison.

Staying quiet, letting her words turnover in his mind, Rafael finished off his scotch. “Thank you,” he said, standing, and he hoped she knew that he meant for more than just the drink.

As he walked toward the door Rita pulled out her phone, texting Sonny.  _ I did my best. _

* * *

For the next few days Rafael did his best to follow Rita’s advice, to channel everything he was feeling into the trial. And it seemed to be working. 

His opening argument was powerful and just the right amount of emotional, pulling the jury in without causing them to think that the prosecutor was a lunatic. His string of witnesses were captivating, competent, and unflappable. Rollins spoke to the initial call to the Campbell residence, Fin described the final crime scene, the state trooper who had pulled Campbell over upstate testified to the blood on Campbell’s clothes, and the lab tech explained how they’d proven that the blood was Melissa’s.

When Melinda went into detail about how she’d determined that Bill Campbell had wrapped his hands around his wife’s throat and repeatedly bashed her head into the coffee table, Rafael had pressed his thumb to the cut in his palm.

The cut, now covered by a liquid bandage so as to not distract the jury with the gauze — a trick Sonny had reluctantly admitted to learning when he’d been in a bowling league and his thumb had split open — had become like his talisman. Anytime he felt like he was losing control of his emotions or sinking into the panic, he’d squeeze his hand until he felt the sting.

It had hindered the healing process, but he didn’t care. The pain kept him on track. He’d worry about healing later.

His final witness was Luke. Rafael had saved him for last because he was sure to have the biggest impact on the jury. He’d also been dreading it and putting it off had seemed like a great idea when he’d been mapping out his trial strategy.

As he prepared to call Luke to the stand, Rafael glanced toward the gallery, making eye contact with Sonny who gave him a reassuring nod. He’d been there throughout the trial whenever he could get away from work. All of those times he’d stayed toward the back, but not today. Today he’d made sure to sit directly behind Rafael in the front row.

Rafael nodded back, almost imperceptibly, before turning back to face the judge. “Your honor, the prosecution would like to call Luke Campbell to the stand.”

Luke entered the courtroom, dressed in dark pants and a white button up shirt, looking somehow much older and younger than his ten years all at the same time. Rafael noticed the way he took a deep breath as he took a seat in the witness stand, sitting up straight and pushing his shoulders back slightly.

He wondered if ten-year-old him would have ever had the strength to do what Luke was doing. He doubted it.

Throughout Luke’s testimony, Rafael worked the cut in his palm so much that he felt a small trickle of blood run down his hand. He shoved his hand into his pocket, worrying more about what the jury would think if they saw him bleeding than ruining his pants.

He walked the boy through a bit of the history, nothing gratuitous, just enough to establish a pattern of behavior, before moving into the night of his mother’s murder.

Luke’s voice quivered as he described his mother jumping between him and his father, pausing to look at Rafael for reassurance.

“It’s okay, Luke. I know this is hard, but please tell us what your father did to your mother.”

“Objection,” D’Angelo called from the defense table. “Leading the witness.”

The judge sustained the objection, even though he looked like he didn’t want to, but Rafael didn’t mind. The objection had done more damage with the jury than anything.

“I’ll rephrase. What did you see your father do after your mother stepped in?”

Luke, having swallowed back his tears while the legal maneuvering had taken place, went through how he’d run and hid in the closet then, how he hadn’t seen anything but there’d been loud noises, and after it had gone quiet, he waited a long time before coming out. And when he had, he’d found his mother bleeding and not moving on the living room floor.

When he was finished, D’Angelo, in a rare move of intelligence, declined to question the witness.

Once Luke had stepped down and was back with his aunt and grandparents, Rafael took a deep breath. “The prosecution rests, your honor.”

“Very well then. Given the hour, we’ll break for the day. Defense will present their first witness at 9am tomorrow.”

Sonny was waiting for him in the hallway. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.” As he said it, Rafael realized it was the truth. “How about Luke? Did you see him?”

Sonny nodded. “Yeah, they left pretty quickly. They didn’t want to chance running into Bill, but Maggie said to thank you.”

“Hopefully it was all worth it.”

“I think it was. Did you see that jury. They were—”

“Barba,” D’Angelo interrupted. “We need to talk.” 

Only Sonny saw Rafael school his features into indifference before he turned to face the defense counselor.  

“I can’t possibly imagine what about.”

D’Angelo tossed a glance at Sonny. “Can we go talk about this somewhere else?”

“No, I think we’re good here. What do you want?”

“That deal. Is it still on the table?”

Rafael scoffed. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Man one.”

This time he outright laughed. “Absolutely not. I only offered your client a deal in the first place to keep his son from having to testify. Well, now that he has, and buried your client in the process I might add, I have no intention of walking out of here with anything but a guilty verdict for all charges.”

“Your ego is really gonna screw you one of these days, Barba.”

Rafael shrugged. “Maybe, but not today.”


	10. Chapter 10

“You know, you really don’t have to sit here. You should go home.” 

“What?” Sonny, comfortable on the sofa in Rafael’s office,  waved the half eaten burrito in his hand. “We’re having dinner together.”

“Yeah, okay.” Rafael glanced at the corner of his desk at his own burrito that was still in its wrapper. “Well, when you’re done with your ‘dinner’ you should go home.”

After Rafael had finished his little showdown with D’Angelo, Sonny had suggested they both do just that, but of course his husband wanted to go back to his office and work. Sonny had not been invited, but he’d tagged along anyway.

“I will if you come with me.”

“Do you want me to lose this trial?”

“You’re not gonna lose,” Sonny said around the last bite of his burrito. “All that evidence? Plus Luke’s testimony. You’re good.”

This confidence piqued Rafael’s interest enough that he actually stopped writing for a second and looked up at Sonny. “So you don’t think I should have taken the deal?”

Sonny chewed slowly while he thought about his answer. “No. I don’t. I was trying to look out for you and Luke before, when I suggested it, but you’re both stronger than I gave you credit for. You’ll get through the second half of this trial, and you’ll kill it just like you have been.”

Something flickered in Rafael’s chest. Pride? Gratitude? Love? He wasn’t sure. Maybe a mix of all three or something that couldn’t even be named. He just knew that having Sonny believe in him made all the difference.

“Now,” Sonny continued, balling up the foil that had wrapped his dinner and tossing it into the trash can. “Would I be upset if Bill Campbell decided not to testify so that you didn’t have to deal with him on cross? No.”

This was something Rafael had been going back and forth on himself. Part of him wanted just what Sonny wanted — to avoid going toe to toe with an abuser — but the other half of him wanted to eviscerate him.

“Well, as of this afternoon he’s still on the witness list.”

“I don’t understand what they’re hoping to accomplish. It’s just going to open the door for you to trip him up.”

“They have no choice.” Rafael leaned back in his chair, in his element now of explaining trial strategy, looking at this case from an objective perspective instead of the extremely personal one that it was. “Luke’s testimony really did them in. Bill Campbell has to get on the stand and charm the jury.

“It will be a tough needle to thread, explaining that his son is confused and mistaken while being forgiving and genial, but it’s a role he’s played for years. He’s used to it.”

Sonny huffed. “God, I hate this prick.”

“You and me both.”

* * *

Bill Campbell’s testimony went just as Rafael had predicted. He put on a show of the grieving widower, stricken by the fact that his son might have to grow up without both of his parents. 

Together, he and D’Angelo posited that an intruder must have killed Melissa before Bill arrived home, they conveniently left out the fact that Bill was arriving home from jail, not work.

When it was Rafael’s turn to cross, he took a deep breath, smoothing his orange tie and buttoning his jacket as he stood. Once he was convinced he was steady, he wasted no time. “Mr. Campbell, it is your assertion that you came home, found your wife’s body, and ran because you were afraid of being accused, is that correct?”

“Yes, and I was right, clearly, or I wouldn’t be here.”

“So, instead of trying to revive your wife, instead of calling an ambulance, you fled the scene?”

“Like I said before, I did try to revive her.”

“Ah,” Barba said, like something had just occurred to him. “Right. And that’s how her blood got all over your clothes?”

“That’s right.”

Rafael held up a picture of Bill Campbell’s gray t-shirt, spread across the metal table in the lab. The front of the shirt was caked in blood, and the chest and shoulders had smaller flecks of it, in seemingly random places. “Can you please explain what method of resuscitation that you attempted to use that would cause this kind of blood transfer? The last I checked, CPR doesn’t require your entire torso.”

“Objection.” D’Angelo didn’t even bother to stand.

“Withdrawn.” Barba never took his eyes off of Campbell. “As previously testified by our forensic lab technician, the blood spatter found on the chest and shoulders of your shirt was the result of multiple blows to your wife’s head against the coffee table. What is your explanation for this?”

“I came home, and...and I found Mel...She was bleeding.” Campbell had the nerve to pause, to pretend to be choked up. “I knelt down on the floor and lifted her up, tried to get her to wake up, and when I realized she was dead, I put her back on the floor. The blood must have splashed then.”

“I see. So you dropped your dead wife’s body so carelessly that it fell with enough force to cause the blood to splash back up on you? Withdrawn,” he added before the defense could object. “And then you ran?”

“I told you already, I was afraid I would be blamed.”

“And why did you think you would be held responsible for this horrific crime?”

“Well, I uh,” Campbell seemed to try to be thinking of a reason that wouldn’t remind the jury that he’d previously been accused of domestic violence.

“Could it possibly be because you had just gotten out on bail for beating your wife?”

“Objection!” This time D’Angelo rose. “My client was never tried for that charge.”

Rafael looked bored. “Your honor, we’ve been over this.”

They’d had a pre-trial hearing in which D’Angelo had done his best to get any mention of the arrest prior to the murder thrown out. The judge had sided with Rafael.

“We have. The objection is overruled, but Mr. Barba, you may not present the accusations as facts. Please rephrase.” 

Rafael turned back to Bill Campbell. “Were you afraid of being accused of murdering your wife because earlier that day you had just made bail on a domestic violence charge?”

“Yes, but—”

“And in during the incident for which you’d been arrested, didn’t you wrap your hands around your wife’s throat, much the same way you did the evening that you murdered her?”

“No, I didn’t kill her.” It was the first time Campbell showed any agitation and he took a moment to calm himself before continuing. “And I didn’t choke her the other time either.”

Rafael circled back toward the prosecution table. “So these.” He held up a photo that Sonny had taken of Melissa’s Campbell’s neck the first time they’d been called to the home. “Not to be confused with these,” he tossed in, holding up the photo of the newer purple marks that had been made by her killer, “were made by a random intruder as well?”

“No, no. It was just, it was all just a big misunderstanding.” 

“I see…” Rafael let his flimsy excuse hang in the air a moment. “Okay, so, back to when you found your wife’s body. After you determined that she was dead, you fled the scene, correct?”

“Objection.” A bit of irritation got through in D’Angelo’s tone that time. “Asked and answered.”

“Sustained.”

Rafael remained unphased. “When you left your apartment, where was your son?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“He wasn’t there when I found Mel.”

“And that didn’t strike you as odd? Is your ten year-old son often off roaming the city on his own?”

Bill huffed a sigh of frustration. “No, but sometimes he goes to the neighbor’s.”

“Your next door neighbor?” Barba pretended to check a file. “Charlotte Duncan?”

“That’s right,” Bill nodded, like he’d been validated.

“The same Charlotte Duncan who testified in this courtroom to making numerous phone calls to police due to shouting and other disturbances in your home?”

“She’s a liar,” Campbell sneered before he could help himself.

“I see, so you let your child spend time with someone who you claim to be untrustworthy.”

“That’s not what I—”

“So you say, Luke was at the neighbor’s house when all of this occurred, but your own son says that he was there, hiding in a closet because you’d attacked his mother. Which is true?”

“My son,” Campbell shook his head like what he was about to say greatly upset him. “My son is kinda slow. He doesn’t understand things sometimes. And he’s easily impressionable. I think maybe the police, or Mel’s family, I don’t know. Maybe they told him what they wanted him to say.”

Up until now, Rafael had managed to lose himself in the cross, the back and forth tennis match of wit and will, but know he felt his hands clench into fists at his side. Luke was bright and articulate and, from what Sonny said, pretty damn good at building and creating. For Bill Campbell to try to present his son with some sort of developmental disability to save his own skin enraged him.

Rita’s words went through his mind.  _ Use it to nail his ass. _

“So your son is confused?”

“Yes.”

“And he was confused all those other times you used your fists on his mother? When you stepped on a lego and became so enraged that you beat and choked your wife?”

“Yes,” Bill said this time through clenched teeth.

“He was confused when he said that you came after him for making the original 9-1-1 call? That his mother stepped in and that’s when you punched her in the face, knocking her to the ground before you grabbed her throat? He was confused about that?”

“He’s always making up stuff. You can’t believe what he tells you.”

Rafael was talking again before Campbell had even finished his answer. “And he was confused about you beating your wife’s head into the coffee table so hard that it bashed in her skull?”

“Objection!” D’Angelo called out, but Campbell was talking over him.

“He never saw that. The little pussy was hiding in the closet.”

Satisfaction and something like serenity came over Rafael’s features. For the first time since he’d stood up he turned and allowed his eyes to meet Sonny’s in the gallery. Sonny nodded, proud. Rafael nodded back, then turned to face the judge. “Nothing further.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! We've made it to the end. Thank you to all of you who have stuck this out. It really means a lot to me! And a special thank you, as always, to PBB for all of your help and encouragement along the way!

Rafael’s lungs burned as he struggled up the last flight of the fifth floor walk up, and he did his best not to think about how his seventy-year-old mother climbed these stairs on a daily basis. 

Speaking of his mother, she was waiting for him, shoulder against the door jam of her apartment, elbows crossed.

He’d timed his journey so that he wouldn’t have to explain to Sonny where he was going, leaving while he was at mass, and arriving at his mother’s just about the time she’d return home from her own church services.

He must have timed it just perfectly because she was still in one of her nicer church dresses.

She didn’t mention how long it had been since she’d buzzed him up, and he was grateful, but only for a moment.

“What are you doing here? Did you get fired? Are you and Sonny getting a divorce? Did you do something so bad that you got fired  _ and _ Sonny is divorcing you?”

“No, Mami, it’s nothing like— Wait, why is it that if Sonny and I were splitting up  _ he  _ would be divorcing  _ me _ ?”

Lucia just cocked an eyebrow at him and turned toward her apartment. “So if it’s nothing horrible, why are you here?” she asked as he followed her through the living room and into the kitchen. “Coffee?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, before reaching for the yellow can of Cafe Bustelo and busying herself with making coffee for the both of them.

Rafael took off his navy blue trench coat and draped it over the back of a kitchen chair then settled in at the chipped formica table that his mother had bought for them when she’d first left his father.

He’d offered to replace it with something nicer a few times, but Lucia had asked why he’d replace a perfectly good table.

Admittedly there was a small part of him that was glad she’d kept it. When he sat here he was instantly reminded of countless dinners, some with his mother, some with both she and his abuelita, and some alone, while his mother had been working. Just him and his books.

It was at this table that he’d seen his mother smile and laugh for the first time in a long time, where she’d quizzed him on SAT words, and where he’d opened up his acceptance letter to Harvard. They’d hugged each other and cried, Lucia with pride, Rafael with relief.

He wondered now if those memories were why she kept it.

“Rafi,” Lucia set his coffee in front of him, sounding distressed again, and sat down across from him with her own mug. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I mean, not really.”

“Well, you never come up here unless it’s for a reason, so I don’t think you just popped in out of the blue.”

“You really make me seem like a great son,” he grumbled, taking a sip of his coffee and thinking for a moment how it tasted better than even the finest blends he had shipped in.

“I’m just telling the truth.” She shrugged.

“I just felt kind of bad about how I’d been dodging you lately.”

“Oh, you were avoiding me? I had no idea.”

Anyone who wondered how Rafael had become such a sarcastic asshole should spend two minutes with his mother. All of their questions would be answered.

“I was working a tough case, and—well, it really got to me, more than it should have, and I was in a really rough place.”

“You should have told me, I could have helped.” She took one hand from around her mug and placed it on top of his. It was warm, probably from holding the coffee mug, but he couldn’t remember a time when her hands hadn’t been warm.

“No, I couldn’t talk to you about it. If I did, I couldn’t have...I would have…” He looked up at her, his eyes glistening and understanding dawned on her.

“I see. One of those.”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry, Rafi. I’m sorry that what I put you through affects your work. Still affects you.”

“What  _ you _ put me through? You didn’t put me through anything. I could never blame you for anything that happened.”

“Why not? I do.” She said it matter-of-factly. There was no melancholy or drama in it, just what she considered to be the truth.

“Well, I don’t,” Rafael said petulantly. They were both silent for a moment, Lucia sipping her coffee and Rafael running his finger over a crack in the tabletop. “Sonny thinks I should go see someone. Try to work through some of it.”

“Maybe you should.”

This surprised him. The Barbas were not ones to acknowledge any weaknesses, especially when it came to mental health. But he supposed it had been years since the topic had come up between them and, being an educator, he was sure she kept up on the latest research.

Still, he said, “Really?”

“If you think it will help.”

“That’s just it. I don’t know that it will.”

“And you don’t know that it won’t.” She stared at him across the table for a few seconds. “Sonny went to get help when he was struggling, didn’t he? He did that for you as much as for himself. Shouldn’t you do this for him?”

Rafael stayed silent, knowing she was right.

“And if it doesn’t help, it doesn’t help, but at least then you’ll know.”

“What about you?” he asked. “Have you ever thought about it?"

“The difference between us is that I came to terms with what happened a long time ago. Do I have my moments? Sure, but it doesn’t eat at me like it does you.” 

Rafael wasn’t so sure she was right, given the fact that just a bit ago she’d said that she still blamed herself for what happened, but he didn’t want to turn this conversation into an argument so he didn’t say so.

“And you won’t think that I’m...that I’m weak?”

“Of course not. I think choosing to help yourself improve is one of the strongest things you can do.”

His eyes were growing shiny again so she patted his hand, cleared her throat, and stood. “Now, I’m going to change and then you can take me to lunch. You owe me a few.”

Rafael smiled. “Sure, Mami. Anywhere you want.”

* * *

Over the next several weeks, Rafael left his office at 1pm on Wednesdays and walked the seven blocks to his new therapist’s office. It had been difficult at first, opening up about things that he had never spoken about, not even with Sonny, but after a few visits it had actually started to feel good. 

He had expected the stereotypical TV psychologist who only asked “And how does that make you feel?” every time he said something, but it wasn’t like that. The man actually provided insight, and, in a lot of cases, pointed out the obvious solution that, for some reason, Rafael’s brain had failed to notice.

And it was helping. He felt less angry, less uptight. It was getting easier to let the small things go. Not completely and not always, but enough that it was noticeable. And not just by him.

Olivia had asked him last week if he’d been replaced by a pod person when he’d waved off a mistake they’d made in a warrant request. He’d just laughed and told her, “Maybe.”

Even now, as he sat at a table by the window at the Italian place near their apartment, he found himself actually enjoying watching the snow fall instead of becoming irritated by it.

Within thirty minutes it would become dirty slush, but for now it was nice, and it reminded him that he and Sonny’s anniversary was coming up. One year married. So much had happened, a lot of it stressful and not so great, but they’d managed to rely on one another through it all.

He hoped that what people said was true, that the first year of marriage was the hardest, because if it was, they’d made it.

As he checked his watch — out of curiosity, not impatience, he assured himself — the door to the restaurant swung open and Sonny entered with a blast of cold air and snow.

Rafael watched as he pulled his beanie off, and thanked Annette, the hostess, for taking his coat. Running his fingers through his hat-flattened hair, he finally spotted Rafael and grinned, making his way over to the table.

“Hey, sorry, it’s crazy out there.”

“First big snow of the year. People forget how to handle it.” Rafael said mildly.

“You’re tellin’ me. I was on my way here and a cab slid into a delivery guy on a bike. Of course he had been going about two miles per hour so the guy was barely scratched, but I still had to call EMS, give the traffic cops a statement, the whole nine.” Sonny shook his head. “Even off duty, I’m on duty.”

“You’re a good person.” The corners of Rafael’s lips turned up.. “You would have done it even if you weren’t duty bound.”

Sonny picked up the glass of white wine that Rafael had ordered him and leaned back in his chair, giving his husband a smile.

“What?” Rafael asked.

“Nothin’.” Sonny shook his head, still smiling as he brought the glass to his lips. “So how was today?”

Rafael shrugged. “The usual. A couple motion hearings, nothing crazy.”

“Did you win?”

“Of course.” Rafael drank from his own glass of red wine.

“Of course.” Sonny echoed, but it was pride, not mockery in his tone.

“Hello gentleman,” their server greeted with a smile. “Welcome back. Are you ready to order?”

Sonny, who didn’t even need to look at the menu, nodded. “Yes, I’d like the—”

“Actually,” Rafael interrupted. “Could you give us just a few more minutes, Leo?”

“Certainly.”

“How can you not know what you want?” Sonny asked, baffled. “You always get the same thing.”

“It’s not that. I just, I wanted to talk to you for a minute.”

Suddenly all of the playfulness dropped from Sonny’s features. “Is something wrong?”  

“No, no. Just the opposite, in fact.” Rafael reached across the table and put his hand on Sonny’s. “I just wanted to thank you for being there for me these last few months. Even when I didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry I made things so hard on you.”

“You’re my husband and I love you. And if you being an ass was going to run me off, I never would have married you in the first place.” Sonny grinned.

“Ha. Ha.” Rafael took his hand back and Sonny frowned.

“No, come back, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, calm down. I just wanted to give you this.” He pulled a small, wrapped box from under the table, where he’d kept it hidden on his lap.

Sonny perked up. “Early Christmas present?”

Rafael shrugged. “Something like that.”

Sonny took his time, peeling back the shiny blue paper. He had no doubt that Carmen had wrapped the gift, it was too neat to have been done by Rafael. Finally, he discarded the paper and opened the plain box.

Sonny laughed as soon as he saw what was inside: a mug that said, “Stay Safe. Sleep with a cop.”

“I know I kind of decimated my collection,” Rafael said apologetically. “But I thought maybe we could start one for you.”

“This is great.” Sonny grinned, dimples showing, as he turned the mug in his hand. “But how about we have a collection together? Because I’ve already ordered you a new one and it is a doozy.”

The loving look fell from Rafael’s place, replaced with a trepidatious one. “Oh God, what does it say?”

Sonny laughed and shook his head. “It’s a surprise.”

“Sonny, seriously, what does it say?”

Sonny ignored him, flagging down their waiter. “Leo, we’re ready to order now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't currently have any plans for additional fics in this universe, but you never know when I might get the urge to write married Barisi again. :)


End file.
